Something Wicked
by BoomerCat
Summary: Repost. Gordon discovers monsters are real. New alternate ending now posted. Please note: The new ending replaces chapters 35 on. Read new ending after chapter 34.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: This is a repost of a story that was originally very well received, right up until the end. At that point, several authors expressed disappointment with the ending. Because they were all people I respected, I took the story down with the intention of 'tweaking' the end. Big mistake. I didn't even look at the story for over a year, and when I did, I just couldn't bring myself to work on it. I only recognized relatively recently that the reason I couldn't work on it was because I actually LIKED the original ending. I started talking to people about reposting it. Lots of different opinions on it, but one person pointed out that the only opinion that mattered was mine. Well, duh! With that revelation, I figured I'd repost and let the chips fall where they may. And, wouldn't you know, that was all I needed... the logjam in my mind broke, and I actually did a new ending. Huh, whoda thunk? Anyway, this is the orignal, and once it's all up, I'll post the new ending for those who are curious._

I took a deep breath. Oh yeah, this was gonna be a good day. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, splashing reds and cotton candy pinks across the sky. The air was moist, but warm. And as I stretched, my body was cooperating, no twinges, no pain.

I looked at the swimming pool, all sparkly blue and inviting. Tossing my towel on a lounger, I slipped out of my flip-flops and grasped the edge with my toes. Taking a deep breath, I prepared for a competition dive that would push me halfway across the length of the pool underwater. As I took a moment to settle myself, my ears perked, catching the whine of an approaching aircraft.

I froze for a second, and scanned the horizon. I wasn't aware of anybody scheduled to visit, and as far as I knew, no one in the family was off the island. Well, except for Alan, of course, stuck up on Thunderbird Five. I spotted a rapidly growing dot, then relaxed when it got close enough to identify as Tracy One, a little red jet that the family used for jaunts to the mainland.

I didn't know who was out and about this early in the morning, but I wasn't curious enough to forego my swim. I turned back to the pool, and taking a few deep breaths to focus my concentration, dove in. The water was silky cool on my skin, but I didn't lose focus to enjoy it. I was here on business, and the water was just something to succeed against.

I didn't do this often anymore, this pushing. My glory days were long behind me, and I didn't regret their passing. Yeah, a second Olympics would have been nice, to shut up those one-shot wonder comments, but my life now was pretty much perfect. I loved my job, hard though it could be. I loved living on the island, and though I'd never admit it out loud, I loved living with my family. Sure, there was that niggle of worry that all the good women would be taken by the time I decided I wanted to start a family, but hell, I was only twenty-four, and unlike my older brothers, good looking. There was plenty of time.

In the meantime, I hit the far side of the pool and flipped and pushed off, disgusted with how sloppy my technique had become. For the next twenty minutes, I concentrated on correcting all those little flaws in movement that kept me from achieving my goal. When I was finally satisfied that my stroke was as perfect as it had been when I was sixteen, I started swimming in earnest.

I was happy with what I was achieving, but all too soon, I found my energy flagging. Still, it was a good workout. I decided I really needed to do it more often. Of course, I'd made the same decision the last time I'd done what Alan called the Dawn Patrol, but this time I really meant it.

Yeah, who was I kidding? Between the day-to-day work around the island, and energy consuming rescues that I participated in, I was lucky if I could dabble my toes in the water, let alone find the time and energy to seriously swim. Ah well, life was a trade-off.

As I did a few leisurely laps to cool off, I caught a glimpse of movement at the pool's edge. Lifting my head, I spotted my brother John moving across the patio. "Oooo, Johnny, you're looking spiffy!"

And he did. On the island, we all were pretty much into South Seas casual, but John was wearing a dark gray suit that did actually look good on him. He paused, and turned toward me. "Kind of early for you, isn't it?"

"I felt the Need. Where are you going all dressed up?"

He cocked his head and grinned. "Actually, I'm not going, I'm just getting home. That wedding, remember?"

Surprised, I blurted out, "That wedding was yesterday! John, you mean to tell me that you've been gone all night? Wow! Did you get lucky?"

John's grin turned sly. "Luck has nothing to do with it, kiddo. And yes, I did."

"Way to go, bro! Does she have a sister?"

"Yeah, like I'd subject her family to you."

"Aw, I'm hurt, Johnny. To the core."

"Uh-huh. Well, I guess you're just going to have to live with the pain."

I laughed, and getting out of the pool, grabbed my towel. "So, what's she like?"

John looked at me. I knew he wasn't a kiss-and-tell guy, but I was really curious what kind of woman could get past his defenses. Pursing his lips, he said simply, "She's nice. I like her. End of story."

I nodded, knowing that was all he was going to say. "So, are you going to see her again?"

John cocked his head considering. I waited until he decided to trust me. "I've got a date with her this evening."

Now, that really caught me off guard. "Dad will have a fit."

"Dad doesn't have to know."

"Johnny, this isn't like climbing down the oak tree at home. You fire up Tracy One, and I guarantee you that Dad is going to notice."

John looked me in the eye. "Not if I use Brains' sound shield tech. Not if he's not at his desk to see the tell tale. Not if he's down in the hangar, looking at something in Thunderbird Four."

The sound shield was one of Brains' little inventions, intended to cover the sound of the Thunderbirds launch when there was unavoidable company on the island. I smiled at my brother. He knew me so well. Still, "I feel obligated to point out that if a rescue call comes in, nothing will save your scrawny butt."

John nodded ruefully. "Look, I know this is crazy, but believe me, she's worth it. You going to back me up or what?"

I made him wait for a moment, trying to look as if I was considering saying no, but the truth was, I was always game to back up my brothers. Actually, I was pretty sure that if John went to Dad, and told him there was a girl, Dad would bend over backward to accommodate him. I think we all would. But hey, a little sleight-of-hand, with no one getting hurt was my specialty. "Well, okay, if you insist."

"Excellent. Listen, I was up all night. I'm going to go crash. Cover for me at breakfast, okay?"

"Oh, you so owe me!"

"Like Hell! We'll just take it off of your tab."

I couldn't help but laugh. John always could put me in my place, and damn, if I didn't love the guy for it! I headed for my quarters, and took a long, hot shower to get the chlorine off. By the time I was dressed and ready for the day, I was pretty well famished. I headed to the kitchen where I could smell breakfast.

Grandma stood at the stove, and Kyrano was chopping something over by the sinks. I think part of the reason I'm not overly aggressive about finding a girl to settle down with is because I have this sneaking suspicion that no one will ever be up to my standards. My standard at the moment was smiling at me and telling me good morning.

My grandma had raised me from the time I was a rug crawler. She was a constant in my life like my dad and brothers, and she loved me. Sounds kind of pathetic when I say it like that, but it's always been my grandma's love that has grounded me. She doesn't ask anything of me, she just loves me. I don't know that any mere mortal woman will ever be able to make me feel the way Grandma does when she looks at me.

And I know nobody, but nobody, can make waffles like she can. "This looks great, Grandma, just what I wanted."

She reached up with her soft hand and caressed my cheek, and everything was instantly right with my world. "Well, that's why I made it, baby. Get a plate, these are just ready now."

I took a plate from the counter and held it out. Just as Grandma lifted the waffles up, another plate appeared on top of mine intercepting them. "Hey! Those were mine!"

Scott smirked as he moved to the table. "You snooze, you lose."

As I glared at my brother, I felt a weight plop on the plate I was still holding out. I looked down to find Grandma had been keeping some extras warming under a towel. I was still peeved. Warmed ones weren't nearly as good as fresh hot ones. Grandma winked at me, and lifted the lid on a pot at the back of the stove. My nose twitched to the smell of the hot blueberry compote.

Grandma ladled about half a gallon of the dark blue stuff onto my waffles, and with a hand stopped me when I would have moved away. She reached over to a bowl sitting in some ice water, and spooned a generous helping of freshly whipped cream on top of my waffles. Funny, my pique just kind of disappeared.

I moved casually to my place at the table and sat down, my plate almost overflowing with blue gooey goodness. Scott, who had poured maple syrup over his waffles, just stared. I shrugged, batting my eyes. "What can I say? She likes me best."

Virgil came shuffling in, looking as if he was still asleep. He kissed Grandma good morning, shuddered at the sight of the waffles, and grabbed a cup of coffee. Neither Scott nor I said anything. There wasn't any point. Anything you said to Virg before his first cup of coffee bounced right off his ears. Al and I used to test it when we were younger, making outrageous statements. Virg would just sit there, and if you asked him about it later, he'd look at you blankly as if you were out of your mind.

Scott was still frowning at my plate, and I started in, making sure to relish every bite. It didn't take long for him to start twitching. He wanted my waffles. I slurped up the berries. He looked down at his plate, knowing full well that Grandma would hand him his head on a platter if he threw good food away. I groaned in gastronomic ecstasy.

I could see the little wheels spinning in his head. He really wanted blueberry waffles. Finally, he looked over at Virgil, calculating our brother's state of receptiveness. Whatever he saw, he must have figured the timing was right, because he pushed his plate over. "Here, Virg, I got you some waffles."

Virgil frowned at the plate as if he had no idea what it was or where it had come from, and Scott got up and went over to the stove. Grandma pursed her lips, muttering, "It'd serve you right if I made you go without."

"I'm sorry, Grandma." Scott really knew how to lay it on when he wanted, and Grandma was in the mood to be a soft touch. Shaking her head, she served him a plate of blueberry waffles and he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, Grandma, you're the best."

Dad showed up in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, the sweat stains showing that he'd gone for a run and hadn't bothered with a shower yet. "Morning, all. What have you got there, Mom? Waffles? Great! Just what I needed."

He kissed Grandma, and with his plate full sat down at the table. "Well, boys, how's everyone this morning?"

Virg grunted, I grinned, and Scott answered for us all. "We're doing good, Dad. How about you?"

"I am doing quite well, thank you very much. We signed the Antelope Project contracts last night."

"That's fabulous! Did you get everything you wanted?" Scott responded with real enthusiasm. I shared the feeling. Not because I gave a damn about the military contract landed by Tracy Enterprises, but because with the contracts signed, Dad would relax for a while. He'd been a real bear the last couple of weeks.

"Yes, indeedy. We're going to be able to make a real difference with this one, boys. A real difference."

Both Scott and I made congratulatory noises, and Dad beamed. I noticed that Virgil was starting to perk up and I couldn't help the grin of anticipation. It went exactly how you'd expect. First, he really noticed the waffles, and dug in. Of course, by this time they were cold, so that first bite stopped in mid-chew. He looked around the table at everybody else's plate, and then he frowned, with this look of utter confusion.

I couldn't help it. I started humming a tune from a kid's show, "One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others." Virg didn't seem to notice, but Scott shot me dagger glares. Dad seemed to notice Virgil's plate for the first time. "You didn't want the blueberries, son?"

Virgil looked up, "Um…"

That was all. Now, understand, my brother is a very bright man. At some things, he's a goddamn genius. But his geniusness never kicked in much before ten in the morning. At the moment, he was at some level below moron, and sinking.

Grandma noticed, and with a 'tsk,' she loaded up a plate, and slid it in front of my brother, deftly removing the offending syrup covered ones. Virgil looked down and blinked, then dug in. Dad raised his eyebrows, then shook his head and started in on his own plate.

Now, this probably sounds pretty funny, and I'll admit, I was sitting there, grinning. But it was pretty much an everyday occurrence around the ol' Casa de Tracy, so we all just took it in stride. After a few moments, Grandma turned, and stood with her hands on her hips. "Now, where is John?"

She wasn't asking anybody in particular, but I'd told Johnny I'd cover for him, so I shrugged, saying, "I think he may have been up late communing with the cosmos, Grandma."

Grandma bought it and turned back to the stove. I glanced up to see how it was playing with everybody else, and found myself on the receiving end of the Dad Look. In stereo. Both Dad and Scott were giving me the eye. They both had probably heard the approach of Tracy One. Oh well, so much for covering.

I'd pretty much cleaned my plate, so I got up and cleared my place, taking the plate and utensils to the sink. "What's on your agenda, son?"

My dad knew everything that took place on the island, and knew perfectly well that I was scheduled to help Brains with some metallurgy thing he had going on. But it was a habit to go over the plans for the day at breakfast, and it was as ingrained in me as it was in everyone else. "Brains is doing the mad scientist thing this morning. I'm gonna go be his Igor."

Virg snorted a laugh and Dad smiled. "All right son. Remember not to use Abe Normal's brain."

"Yesssss, master." I hunched over, and dragging my foot, left the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

It was well into the afternoon before John put in an appearance. I was finishing up on a tricky bit of maintenance on one of our underwater probes, when he came trudging into the workshop. I was surprised that he had slept as long as he had, and in truth, he looked hung over. I tested that theory by calling out cheerfully, "Whoa! Look what the cat dragged in!"

My incredibly responsible brother cringed, squeezing his eyes shut. "For the love of God, Gordon, keep your voice down."

I watched as he practically staggered to a stool. Once he was sitting, he cracked open an eye and checked the worktable. Seeing nothing breakable, he swept bits and pieces of wire and copper tubing aside, and laid his head down on his crossed arms. Something about him seemed wrong somehow, so I asked in a soft voice, "Hey, are you okay?"

"I feel like roadkill. On a bad day." He grunted.

"Man, that must have been some party."

John started to shake his head, then winced. "That's the weird thing. We left the wedding pretty early, and all I'd had to drink was a couple of glasses of champagne. I didn't have anything else to eat or drink after that. I don't know why I feel so crappy."

"So what, you think it's the flu or something?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't feel feverish. It's more like a hangover."

"You gonna call off your date?"

"No!" John's head snapped up.

For a split second, my brother looked at me with look that made my balls want to crawl up to my throat. It was like, pure malice, and something I'd never seen on any of my brothers' faces. It was gone so quick that I might have imagined it, but I knew I hadn't. "Okay, okay! Geez, John, it was just a question."

John nodded ruefully, "Sorry. I'm just a little nauseous. I think I'll go lie down for a while."

"Yeah, you do that. I'll see you at dinner, okay?"

John grunted as he left. I supposed that was a yes. I went back to work, but in truth, I was really rattled by that little conversation with my brother, and I couldn't really concentrate. I finally gave it up on the theory that it was better not to finish, than to make a mistake that could cause problems later.

By habit, I cleaned up my workspace, and put the probe back in its padded case. With a quick glance around to make sure nothing was out of place, I headed for my quarters. In the hallway, I ran into Scott, who asked, "Did you finish up on that probe?"

"No, not yet. I have to do something first."

"Have you seen John lately?"

It was an innocent question, and for a moment I was tempted to unload my worries on my big brother. But then, he'd probably make a mountain out of something that I wasn't sure wasn't just a molehill, so I nodded simply. "Yeah, he's got a hangover. I think he went to take a nap."

"John? A hangover? That doesn't sound like him."

"You didn't know? John's had a secret life for years. Yeah, see, all that time you think he's up on Thunderbird Five stargazing, he's actually performing at Chippendale's in London. What you see when you call him is a virtual John program he came up with."

Scott crossed his arms, a smirk on his face. "I suppose he dances with a feather boa."

"No, nothing that crass. He went for classy instead. He wears this plastic space helmet and silver lame boots. Oh, and a g-string with a big ol' NASA patch for modesty. Of course, it doesn't really need to be that big, but hey, a guy's got to dream, right?"

Scott shook his head, chuckling. "You are demented, you know that, don't you?"

"Me? I'm not the one dancing for dollars in a g-string."

With a snort, Scott headed down the hall. I turned into my bedroom, and went to the desk. When I was feeling all nervy and unsettled, there was one person I could turn to. Don't get me wrong, I go to Scott for a lot of stuff. And Dad and Grandma for even more. But when I just needed someone to help settle me down, without a lot of, I dunno, baggage attached, I always went to Alan.

Alan could be amazingly self-centered, and obtuse, but he was still my best friend, and he still knew me better than anyone. I relied on him in more ways than I could count, and I knew he relied on me just the same. I settled down at my computer, and pressed a few keys, and suddenly, he was there. "Hey! What's up, Gordy?"

"You. A couple of miles."

Alan grinned, "Yeah, that one never gets old for you, does it?"

"Ah, well, you know I've always been into the classics."

"Uh-huh. So what's going on? Did you pull that trick with the plaster of Paris?"

"I started to, but it was seriously messy, so I just kind of abandoned it. I was stirring it up in your bathtub, but you should be able to chisel it out without too much trouble."

"I find that bone chisels work the best, so I'll be needing a part of your skull when I get home."

"Hey, if you need a bone, I'll just pull out my secret file of Tin-Tin in the shower pictures. It'll fix you right up."

Alan laughed. "Good one! Anything else happening?"

"Well, let me see. Tin-Tin went on vacation to Aruba with Eddie Houseman. The annual 'Has-Been Losers' issue of Motorsport came out with a picture of you on the cover. John scared the piss out of me today. Oh, and Dad has decided to scrap Thunderbird Three because it's such a weeniemobile. No word on whether they'll get you off of Thunderbird Five before they do."

"What did John do?"

I sighed and shook my head. "Honest to God, Al, I'm not sure if I didn't just imagine it. He's got himself a girl that he met at that wedding he went to yesterday. He was out all night probably making hot monkey love, you know? Well, he was fine when he got home this morning, but he said he needed to crash because he was up all night."

"At his age? I doubt he was up, up. He was probably just awake up."

I grinned to acknowledge my brother's wit, but I couldn't hold onto the smile. "Yeah, well, anyway, he slept most of the day, and then he really looked like shit. He came out to the workroom, and could barely hold his head up. Now, he'd said he was going to go out with this girl tonight, but he looked so crappy that I asked him if he was going to back out. Alan, he looked at me like he could kill me, and I mean that literally. Scared me to death."

"Wow. What did you do?"

"I backed off. I said it was just a question, and he got all apologetic and said he didn't feel well. But Al, he's never looked at me like that. It was very spooky."

"So what are you going to do about it? Tell Dad?"

"Oh, yeah, that'd go over well. 'Daddy, Johnny's making faces at me.' A sure way to get Lecture Number 14 on the parental hit parade."

Alan chuckled. "Okay, so what are you going to do? I mean, do you think it's serious enough to do anything about? After all, he's not a kid anymore. Maybe it was just the late night catching up with him."

"Yeah, maybe. I don't know, Al, it just made my skin crawl, and I really don't know why. I guess there really isn't anything I can do, short of making a hell of a fuss. And what if you're right? What if it was just John being tired? Or worse, just my imagination?"

"Well, why don't you just forget it, then? If it happens again, then we'll know something's going on. But for now, just let it go, okay?"

I nodded my head slowly. "Yeah, you're right. Okay, I'll just forget about it, but if my bloody corpse if found in the hangar bay, I'll expect you to avenge me."

"Yeah, I'll think about it, right after I read this month's issue of Motorsport."

I smiled at my brother. He always did know how to put things in perspective for me. We signed off, and I headed back out to the workshop to finish the repair on the probe.


	3. Chapter 3

At dinner that evening, I was still feeling a bit unsettled. Despite the stuffed pork chops that Grandma served us, I just couldn't really eat. It was weird. I was totally aware of John sitting across the table from me, but I couldn't meet his eye. I sat there pushing peas around with my fork, listening to Scott and Virgil reminiscing about some high school friend who had won some music award.

I was sort of off in Never-Never Land, when Grandma said, "Well, what is wrong? Did I put too much salt in the dressing?"

I looked up guiltily, but to my surprise, Grandma was looking at John, not me. He still looked like crap, only now he looked like guilty crap. He ducked his head when he realized he was the center of attention, and said, "No, Grandma. I'm just not hungry. I had a late lunch."

"Son, are you feeling all right?" Dad asked, all concerned.

"Actually, I think I might have picked up a touch of food poisoning. My stomach's been off all day."

Grandma was there before the words were out of his mouth, with a hand against his forehead checking for fever. "I don't feel feverish, Grandma, just a little queasy is all."

"Well, no stargazing for you tonight, then. You get to bed early. A good sleep will set you right."

"Yes, ma'am. I'd pretty much decided that myself."

"All right. I'll have Kyrano leave a pot of clear soup on the stove. If you wake up hungry in the middle of the night, you can have that and some crackers."

"Okay, Grandma. Um, I think I'll just go lie down now." John got up and left the table, but before he left the room, he made sure to catch my eye with a very pointed look.

Suddenly I felt as queasy as John claimed to feel. It wasn't the pointed look that bothered me, it was the lie. I hadn't expected him to lie outright to Grandma in front of the whole family. It was one thing to help him sneak out after dark, and quite another to tell lies about it. I mean, I could misdirect with the best of them, but lying just wasn't in my nature. Before tonight, I would have sworn it wasn't in John's nature either.

I pushed past the queasiness in my stomach and forced myself to eat. I dunno, I just didn't want to bring any attention to myself. Especially for not eating. It would be too much like guilt by association. I knew the meal would lie like lead bricks in my stomach, but it seemed a small price to pay for my complicity in John's lie.

By the time dinner was over, I'd decided I wasn't going to cover for him any more. If he wanted to take off without permission, fine, but I wasn't helping him. Of course, I didn't intend to get all up in his face about it either. I figured I'd just make myself scarce, and claim I'd forgotten. Maybe he'd wise up and go to bed and sleep whatever this was off.

I opted to head over to the round house to the game library. Actually it was just a little cupboard where we stored old computer programs, but Alan and I had dubbed it the game library long ago and the name had stuck. I thought I could pull out some old shoot-em-up and lose myself in some quality thumb exercise. With any luck, I really would be able to forget Johnny's weird behavior.

I grabbed a couple of my all-time favorites, Sea Hunt IV and Shark Bait, and headed for my room. I was riding a wave of fond nostalgia looking over the graphics on the package as I headed through the hallway. I was so caught up that I jumped a foot at a sharp voice. "Hey, what are you doing?"

I looked up to find John blocking my way. He still looked like crap, but in another Armani suit, he looked like nicely dressed crap. I tried for cool and calm. "I'm going to go play Sea Hunt. You wanna play?"

"I thought we agreed you'd get Dad to go down with you to the hangar."

So much for staying out of his face. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, I always say. "Yeah, well, that was before you started lying to Grandma."

There was that split second look again. Just like in the workroom. Damn, but if it didn't have the same effect on me the second time. I swallowed hard and took a step back. John didn't seem to notice, and the look was gone again so fast that if I hadn't seen it earlier, I would have thought it was a trick of the light.

With that killing look gone, it was suddenly just my brother John in front of me, looking chagrinned. "Yeah, I know. I don't know why I did that. It kind of just came out. I'll make it up to her, but the thing is, I really need your help here, Gordy. This girl… well, she might be the one, you know?"

"Or she might not be. You've only known her for one day, and here you are willing to lie to Grandma over her. She could dump you tonight, man, but that lie will still be out there."

"All right, I get it. I don't need the full lecture, okay? Are you going to back out on me or what?"

I shook my head. "I dunno, Johnny. You gotta promise me no more lies, okay?"

John nodded, "I swear. Believe me, I feel bad enough about it. I won't do it again."

I took my life into my hands and asked, "Are you sure you won't just stay home tonight? I gotta tell you, Johnny, you just don't look good."

Instead of the attack I half expected, he just rubbed the back on his head and said ruefully, "I know. But I can't just blow this girl off. I don't want to just blow her off. I'm just going to fly over, take her out for drinks then call it a night. I'll be home before you know it."

Relieved, I said, "Yeah, well, I'm going to hold you to that. Tracy One turns into a pumpkin at midnight."

John smiled. "Okay, mother. Now, will you go con Dad for me? Please?"

It still didn't feel right, but it was John's decision, not mine, and I did sort of promise him. "Okay. But John, if you get sick on the mainland, promise me you'll call me, okay? I'll come get you. I don't want you keeling over mid flight, okay?"

John gave me his patented big brother look. "Unlike you, I can pilot a rocketship half asleep. Little sport jets are not a problem."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, right. Listen, give me fifteen minutes to get Dad moving. Have fun, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

John nodded, smiling, "Thanks, Gordy."

I watched as he headed toward the garage. Well, it was really a hangar, but given the size of the Thunderbird hangars, it was just a garage. I still had misgivings, but I'd told John I'd help, so I went off looking for my primary parental unit.

Dad wasn't in the lounge or on the balcony or patio. I knew he wasn't in his bedroom, and I frowned wondering if he'd maybe gone for a walk on the beach. That'd be a disaster, Johnny-wise. If he was anywhere outside, he'd hear that jet take off.

I checked the kitchen just to be sure, and found Grandma there at the table looking at one of her recipe files. "Grandma, where's Dad?"

"Oh, Virgil had some doohickey or other that he wants to install on Thunderbird Two, so he and your father took Scott and Brains down to the hangar to look at it."

"So he decided on the doohickey instead of the thingamajig? Huh." I said, surprised and relieved at this easy solution.

Grandma pursed her lips to hide her smile. "Oh, you. Are you going to go down there with the rest of them?"

"Naw, I went and got a couple of video games out of the library. I think I'll call up Alan and whup his butt at them."

Turning back to her recipes, she said, "That's nice, dear. Tell your brother I said hello."

"I will, Grandma. Good night."

"Sleep tight, baby."

I headed to my room with a clear conscience, and Grandma's benediction washing away the bad vibes of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, I was late getting up, and my back was acting up like nobody's business. I could have killed Johnny. It was all his fault. Alan and I had stayed up pretty late playing games. But when I hit the rack after midnight, John still had not returned. I was restless all night waiting for the sound of Tracy One touching down, but as far as I knew, he hadn't come home at all.

Whenever I had trouble sleeping, I could count on my back giving me fits the next day. This morning it was bad enough for me to consider taking one of the muscle relaxants my orthopedic doctor had prescribed. I would have, except that those pills knock the begeezus out of me, and I would be useless for most of the day. That wouldn't be a problem if John were there, but without him, I needed to be available in case a rescue call came in. God help me if one did.

I've never been much of one for feeling sorry for myself, so I downed a few aspirin and headed for the gym. Experience had taught me that some time in the whirlpool followed by some stretching exercises would mitigate the worst of the spasms. I rode the elevator down rather than my usual three-steps-at-a-time trip down the stairway.

I entered the gym and found my dad and brother Scott playing a bit of one-on-one basketball. I froze for a moment, and considered leaving before they saw me. They both tended to take my back problems personally, as if they were somehow personally responsible for them. The fact that neither had anything to do with the construction flaw of the hydrofoil that had disintegrated under me never seemed to enter into the equation. For that matter, neither did the fact that they were each over a thousand miles away when it happened.

Nothing made me nuts quicker than the way they got all attentive when my back was aching. Made me feel like a damn invalid. I'd had enough of that treatment to last a lifetime. Still, they were going to find out sooner or later, so I tried for casual as I crossed the gym floor. "Hey guys."

They both looked at me for a split second, then each tried to take advantage of the distraction to take control of the ball. Man, they were both so predictable, I could sell tickets and make a mint. I'd almost made it to the weight room door when Scott called out, "Where you been? Grandma was looking for you at breakfast."

"Al and I were up late playing Shark Bait. I decided to sleep in."

I tried to keep walking, but the parental radar was locked in. "Son, you're moving a little slow there. Is your back bothering you?"

I am, as I said, very good at misdirection, but when my dad asks outright like that, I'm like Pavlov's dog. I'm totally conditioned to tell the truth. I turned and faced the man. "Yes, sir. I had a restless night, and I'm stiff this morning. A little time in the whirlpool will fix it, though."

"What's wrong?" Scott has this amazing ability to be both concerned and aggressive at the same time.

I had a moment there where I was ready to just dump the whole situation with John on their heads, but snitch isn't on my resume. I looked my brother in the eye and said a bit more sarcastically than I intended, "It is just possible for people to have restless nights without there being anything wrong, Scott."

"You're not 'people,' you're my brother. Now, what's bothering you?"

Ah, crap, there goes the concern-o-meter. Scott was turning it up like an electric furnace. And I didn't have to look over to feel the second furnace start up in my dad. The gym suddenly became stifling. Still, I might be able to throw a bucket on their passion… "Okay, since you asked… No, no, never mind…"

They both notched it up a bit further. Dad put a hand on my shoulder and said softly, "It's all right son, just tell us what's going on."

I hung my head, and in a low voice, laid it on them. "Well, it's just that Al and I got to talking last night, and, well, we're both just really concerned. We both want to get married some day, and we know it will happen. But we don't want our happiness to be at our brothers' expense, and as you know, you guys are all so ugly that the chances of you ever finding a wife are slim to none. It just made Al and I really sad, you know?"

Dad and Scott just kind of froze in place, and I could feel the heat of their concern just kind of melt away. I added a finishing touch, "It's heartbreaking, really."

Of course, they wouldn't be Dad and Mini-Dad if they let a mere insult totally cool their jets. And the truth is, I wouldn't want them to just give up on me. Grandma might look at me with love in her eyes in a way my dad and brothers would never express, but the love is there all the same. They worry about me because they give a damn, and I appreciate that, I really do. It's just the smothering I could do without.

Anyway, Dad kinda sighed and asked, "Have you taken one of those pills yet?"

"No, I want to give the whirlpool a shot first."

"Son, there's nothing pressing on the schedule for today. Why don't you just relax and take care of yourself? Take the pill and hit the sack."

Damn, I hated those kind of orders couched as suggestions. It kind of backed me into a corner. If I dug in my heels, Dad would go from persuasion to outright demands, and sometimes I'd get all mulish about it. It wasn't an argument I had a bat's chance of winning, but it was mighty hard not to rise to the challenge.

"Yeah, that's probably what I'll land up doing, but I still want some time in the whirlpool. I've got my heart set on playing with my rubber ducky."

Dad smiled and nodded. "All right, son, but I want you to be easy with yourself, got it?"

I almost said 'like a two dollar whore,' but considering the audience, I went with a simple 'okay Dad.'

I turned and went into the weight room. I could feel the silent communication going on behind me, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I moved over to the whirlpool, and opened the spigots to get it filled up.

One of the really nice things about having a rich father was nothing was ever skimped on. I was totally aware that not many people had a full-blown gymnasium in their basements, complete with a full basketball court with a hardwood floor, and a weight room with all the trimmings.

The whirlpool was identical to the ones used by big league American teams, and I actually used it pretty frequently, and not just for backaches. It just felt good after a long rescue, or a hot day or just about any other time. Yes, I had a Jacuzzi in the bathtub in my room, but I just kinda liked the gym room feel of the whirlpool.

I kept my back to whichever one it was that decided to baby-sit me, and went over to my locker. Opening it up, I reached in and pulled out my toy bag. The bag was made of mesh netting, and was bulging with the bathtub toys that I had collected over the years. It was kind of expected of me, so I continued the tradition of having them with me whenever I used the whirlpool.

The whirlpool tub was linked to its own water heater, so by the time I had stripped down and was ready, so was it. I dumped the toys in, covering the surface of the water in colorful plastic, and faced the really hard part. The tub was partially sunken, but I still had to lift my feet about a foot off the floor to get in.

Under normal circumstances, that step was nothing. But when my back was doing the saber dance, lifting my feet, especially the left one, was a sure way to get the knives a' slicing. We still had the lifting tackle from when I was unable to walk on my own, and I would have been tempted to use it if it weren't for the eyes boring holes in my back.

Without having heard a sound, or seen a movement, I knew it was Scott standing there, watching me with laser eyes. I stood gathering my nerve, hoping to make the step seem as natural as possible. Suddenly, my brother was beside me, offering a steady arm, and support that made the move a hell of a lot easier. I was truly grateful for that help.

As I settled down into the steaming water, Scott flipped the switch and the whirlpool jets started up, setting my toys to dancing. Already I felt better. Just the smell of water has that effect on me and I started working at relaxing. Scott pulled up a stool, and picked out one of my plastic sharks and sat down, turning it over in his hands.

I was just starting to close my eyes when he asked all casual-like, "So, what is up between you and John?"

Damn, how does he do that? It stiffened me right up, and that in turn sent a couple shots of pain running up and down my spine. I know he noticed the stiffening, but I still tried for nonchalance. "What makes you think anything is up?"

He cocked the all-knowing eyebrow. "Well, let's see. Last night neither of you ate dinner. You wouldn't even look in his direction. This morning, you both missed breakfast, and now here you are saying you spent a restless night."

The guy has eyes everywhere, not just the proverbial back of his head. Did I say I liked living with my family? I gotta say, sometimes it's a major pain in the ass. There is like no privacy at all. Still, there was no point in denying it when he clearly had my number. "I'll handle it, Scott. Don't worry about it."

"It's not a matter of worry, Gordon. When one of my key team members is sidelined, it's my responsibility to get to the bottom of things and fix them. I can't afford for you to have 'restless' nights."

"Look, I don't need you to fix things for me. The restless night was my fault, not John's, okay? Yes, we had a problem yesterday. Yes, I lost some sleep thinking about it, but that's me, not John, and it's not going to happen again. And as far as being sidelined is concerned, I'm not. When I finish up here, I'll do the exercises, and I'll be good to go. My back hurts, but not enough to warrant taking pills, okay?"

He shook his head. "I can't have you out there if I'm not confident you're 100%."

Okay, that was annoying. Despite the heat of the water, a bit of frost crept into my voice. "And of course, you don't trust me to know myself well enough to know when to say no."

He looked at me with that speculative look that I had always hated. He was judging me like he was so much better. Pain or no, he was getting my back up. But then, he always had the ability to surprise me. "You've got a good point there, Squirt. I actually do trust you. I'm sorry. You know I hate it when you don't feel good."

And once again, the Amazing Scott defuses the situation. "Yeah, I know. I wish you wouldn't let it bother you so much. Sometimes I think it bothers you more than it does me."

He shrugged, and looked down at the toy in his hands. Gave me the perfect opportunity to load up my Sea Serpent Catapult with my squoosh ball. I grunted to get him to look up and let fly. It was perfect. It hit him on the forehead right between his eyes.

A split second of startle, followed by immediate retaliation in the form of catching the ball before it hit the ground and sending it back at me. Perhaps I had been a bit hasty. The ball bonked me in the nose before I could so much as flinch, which was just as well. Sudden movements weren't in the program for me at the moment.

Under the cover of a layer of bathtub toys, I moved my hands into position. One of my all-time favorite toys was one my brother Alan had got me from some adults only catalog he found when he was still in high school. It was a squirt gun with an amazing resemblance to a certain male body part.

I lifted the gun so only the business end was poking out of the water, and gave Scotty a nice big squirt, then dropped the gun quickly back under cover. It had been long enough since I'd last pulled this one, that Scott, just catching a glimpse of the barrel, was fooled for a moment. Oh, I was gonna pay big time, but the look on his face was totally worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

Two hours later, and I still was pink. As in dye. I don't know where Scott got it, but when I got him in the weight room, he had stood and left without a word. I barely had time to feel the first tingling of remorse before he was back with a little jar of stuff that he dumped without ceremony into my whirlpool. The water, my toys, and I all immediately turned that shade of pink that makes stomach medicine so unappealing. Didn't do much for me, either.

I sat on my bed and heaved a sigh. Not for the color, which ran from my neck down, but for my back that the whirlpool, exercise and aspirin had not helped. That's why I was on my bed. I'd just taken the damn muscle relaxant, and I was waiting for it to kick in.

I really hated giving up my days to my back. My dad would say things like better some sleep than a wheelchair, and of course, that's true. But when I was looking out at a gorgeous blue sky day, with the surf splashing against the beach, all I wanted was to be out there.

Didn't matter that in reality I would probably have been stuck in some workshop or other keeping the never ending maintenance under control. Taking the stinkin' pill took the options away, and I truly hated that. With a pained effort, I pulled my legs up onto the bed.

I could feel the wave of drugged euphoria starting in my toes and building up my legs to pull me under. I made sure I was in a comfortable position that wouldn't kink my back up worse, because once I was under, I was totally limp. Not even a twitch.

As I gave in to the encroaching weariness, I might have seen John popping his head in, but if he wanted to talk to me, it was way too late. I sank down into oblivion.


	6. Chapter 6

When I woke up, most of the day was gone, but my back was loose and pain free. For that, I was grateful. I was all muzzy-headed though, so instead of immediately getting up and getting dressed, I staggered over to my desk and booted up my computer. I figured I'd talk to Alan while I was getting the cobwebs out of my brain.

As soon as the connection was made, Alan was there, giving me the stink eye. "Oh, I see you're calling to apologize."

That caught me off guard. I think I just blinked for a few minutes trying to think of anything I needed to apologize for. I came up empty. "I'm sorry you're ugly? I'm sorry TinTin thinks you're a loser? I'm sorry I called?"

"Did you tell Dad your back went out because we were up late last night?"

What? "No, I told him my back went out because I had a restless night."

Alan's eyes narrowed. I could practically see the little wheels spinning in his head. "Then how did he know I didn't get to bed until after midnight?"

I sighed. I really hadn't called to get into a fight. "I told him we were up late playing Shark Bait, which we were. I didn't say the back thing was related to it. What did you want me to do? Lie to him?"

"You could have left me out of it."

"Why? Did he ground you or something? It's not like you're a little kid anymore."

Alan looked uncomfortable. "No, he didn't ground me. He just gave me that look. You know, the 'I'm disappointed, but I'm not going to say anything' look. I hate that look, Gordy."

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry. He had me cornered."

"Yeah, okay." Alan looked me over. "Are you all right?"

"I had to take the pill, but I'm fine."

"You look kinda flushed."

"I do? Well, I just woke up."

He peered closer at the screen. "No, I guess the monitor is acting up. You look all pink, but just from the neck down."

I looked down at myself. I hadn't put a tee shirt on yet, and the dye job just sort of glowed at me. "Actually, it's pink dye. Scott dumped it in the whirlpool."

"Scott did?" Alan started to grin. "And he did this because?"

My own grin answered. "Oh, well, you know. I had my toys with me, and there was this squirt gun…"

Alan barked a laugh. "THE squirt gun?"

"Maybe."

"Aw, damn. I wish you wouldn't do things like that when I'm stuck up here. I would have given good money to see his face."

"It was pretty classic."

"Worth pink dye?"

"Totally."

"Oh, man. Beer's on me when I get home."

"That's if you get home. As soon as I'm dressed, I'm going out and hunting down John. I'm gonna kill him, so you may have to pull a double shift."

"Really? Why?"

"He didn't come home last night. He promised me he'd be in by midnight. I covered his butt, and he left me flapping in the wind."

Alan frowned, pushing some buttons on his console. "I thought you said you didn't need to cover because Virgil took Dad down to Thunderbird Two."

"Yeah, but John didn't know that."

Alan shook his head. "According to the scans, Tracy One arrived back at the island at 2:47 am."

That stopped me in mid-pique. "That can't be right, I would have heard him."

Alan gave me his patented 'you poor idiot, you' look. "Hello? He was using the sound shield, wasn't he?"

I felt my cheeks color the same pink as the rest of me. "Aw crap. You mean to tell me I lost a damn day for nothing?"

"Well, you could still kill him on principle."

I scrubbed my face with my hands. "Forget the beer. I'm thinking tequila shooters."

"Tell you what. I'll short sheet his bed up here. Oh, and Move His Stuff."

That got a laugh out of me. John hated it when his things were messed with. Alan was a master at moving John's things around just enough so that John couldn't be absolutely sure they had been touched. It drove him crazy. I sniffed. "Thank you, Alan. I appreciate it."

"Anytime at all, Gordon."

We grinned at each other and signed off. I hit the shower then got dressed. By my watch, it was just about time for dinner, and I was ready to eat just about anything. I opened my door, and immediately heard raised voices. I peeked down the hall, and saw Scott had John cornered and was reading him the riot act. I very quietly withdrew and closed my door.

There's more than one way to skin an octopus, and I strolled over to my balcony. It overlooks the beach, and when we first moved to the island, I had a habit of hopping the rail and cutting through the bushes. After a while, Dad got all disgusted, and now, there was a gate and a groomed pathway. Worked for me.

I took it now, and made my way over to the main balcony overlooking the pool. As I entered the lounge, my dad looked up from his desk and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't know you were up, son. How do you feel?"

"I'm good, Dad. Anything happening around here?"

"There was a false alarm a couple of hours ago. It was called off before we launched. You didn't hear the klaxons?"

Now, that was disconcerting. The alert system was installed throughout the house and the sound it produced was piercing to say the least. I rubbed the back of my head, amazed that I had slept through it. "Wow. No, I didn't hear a thing. I'm sorry, Dad."

"You've got nothing to apologize for, son. If you'd shown up, I'd have sent you packing anyway. I would like you to run a test on the system for me, though. Your brother John didn't report either. It's possible there's a failure in the system."

I grinned. "Well gee, Dad, I've been sleeping all day, so I'll be able to stay up all night testing it out."

He gave me a look. "Uh-huh. You do that son. Of course, when your brothers come after you, I'll deny any knowledge."

I chuckled. Never let it be said I could get one over on the old man. I sniffed the air. "Is it dinner time yet? I could eat a horse."

"Why don't you go check. I have a few things to finish up here."

"Okay, Dad."

I wandered over to the dining room, but there were no plates on the table. Darn. I really didn't want to wait. I pushed through to the kitchen, and found both Grandma and Kyrano deep in consultation over something in the oven.

"Grandma? What time's dinner?"

They both looked over at me, and my grandma smiled. "It's just about ready, honey. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry."

She pursed her lips. "Well, it will be ready sooner if someone will set the table for me."

"I can do that." I moved to the cupboard to get the dishes. I'll admit, I was a bit hesitant reaching up. Sometimes if I'm not careful, my back muscles will kink back up after I take the pill, but I was able to get everything I needed without so much as a twinge. I love modern medicine.

It only took me a few minutes to get the table set, then to help Kyrano get the meal on the table. Grandma hit the switch that sent a tone throughout the house signifying dinner, and the ravening horde descended.

John was the last to appear, and he looked even worse than yesterday. So much so that Dad and Grandma were on him in a flat second. "John, honey, what's wrong?"

John shied away from Grandma's hand headed unerringly for his forehead. "I'm fine, Grandma. Don't fuss."

"You don't look fine, son. I'll want Brains to have a look at you after dinner."

Ah geez, I could tell by the look on Johnny's face that it was time to duck and cover. Sure enough, he stepped over the line without a pause. He ground the words out. "I said I was fine. I don't need to be 'looked over.' Don't fuss."

"Baby, let me…"

John pushed her hand away, probably more roughly than he intended. Grandma stumbled a bit back with a gasp. "Grandma, I said just leave me the hell alone."

Oh damn, he was having a major meltdown right before my eyes. The only question was who was going to take him down. I wasn't crazy about him mouthing off to Grandma, but I had the advantage of knowing he'd been sick for more than a day. I could cut him some slack. Also, I knew I was low man in the pecking order, and that there wouldn't be anything left by the time my dad and brothers nailed him.

Scott was the first up to bat. In a tone that could shatter diamonds, he said one word. "Apologize."

To my utter amazement, John didn't shrivel up and die right there. To the contrary, he looked at Scott with the most astonishing look of utter contempt. He threw down the napkin he'd picked up and said, "I'm outta here," then he just walked out.

Dad went uber-ballistic, turning bright red, and yelling at the top of his lungs, "JOHN!"

John was gone, and he didn't come back. I sat frozen, afraid to draw any attention. Dad got up and stomped after my brother. Scott sat there with his jaw clenched so tightly that I kept expecting to hear his teeth crack.

Virg was the only one with any presence of mind. He got up and went to my grandma who had been standing very still. It wasn't until Virg moved that I realized she had tears on her cheeks. The moment I saw them, my heart just seized up, and I jumped up to go to her.

Scott and I got to her side at the same moment. Both he and Virgil were better at hiding their distress than I was. They had manly faces on. I was practically in tears at the thought of Grandma being upset.

One thing about my grandma, though, she's never been one for self-pity. She always seems to handle her own unhappiness by taking care of others. She quickly wiped her eyes. "Now, you boys never mind me. Dinner's on the table, and I won't have it get cold."

"Grandma, he didn't mean it. I mean, he's obviously not feeling well." I was anxious to make her feel better, and if that meant defending John's inexcusable actions, then so be it.

Virgil and Scott were both grimly silent, but Grandma smiled at me, "I know that, sweetie. Now, you haven't eaten all day. You sit down here and have your dinner. Your father will talk to John."

I wasn't so sure talking was on Dad's agenda. He'd never been one for spanking us as kids, but from the look on his face, I was willing to bet he'd make an exception in this instance. I went back to my place, and sat down.

After a moment, Scott and Virgil joined me. The turmoil had pretty much ruined my appetite, and I stared at my dinner, not really wanting to eat. My brothers seemed to feel the same, and we all sat there, more or less just pushing the food around our plates.

Half an hour later, and neither my father nor John had returned, and despite Grandma's best efforts, the meal had grown cold. I was getting ready to make a break for it, when I heard, we all heard, the sound of a jet firing up. Oh, man, I couldn't think of a worse move Johnny could make. Cutting out after an argument just made it that much harder to come back in the end.

I heard heavy breathing and looked over and saw Scott. He looked about as angry as I'd ever seen him, and I swallowed hard. I caught Virgil's eye, and he just stared at me as if daring me to open my mouth. Not a dare I would take, I'll tell you. I sat doing my mouse impression.

A few minutes later, Dad walked in. He was all white-faced. I couldn't tell if he was still mad, or just upset. At a guess, I'd say he'd caught up with John and their discussion was not, um, successful. I can't remember the last time I'd sat through a meal as uncomfortable as this one. Not even Grandma said anything.

When it became obvious that Dad wasn't going to say anything, I made my excuses and got the hell out. Virgil was right behind me, and we both stood in the kitchen, rinsing off our plates before putting them into the dishwasher. "Gordon, do you know anything about what the hell is wrong with John?"

Although he said it mildly, Virgil's question stung like an accusation. "What makes you think I'd know?"

He paused and stared at me. Of all my brothers, Virgil was the most tricky. Sometimes it was like he could just read my mind. "If you know anything, tell Dad, okay?"

I didn't answer him. I just mumbled something about double checking the alert system, and left him standing there staring at me. I headed to the main computer room of the house, where the servers were. I've always liked this room, it was kept pretty cool to protect the computers, and it was just about science-y enough for me. Brains' lab was always overwhelming, but here in the quiet calm, I could feel like I was in control.

Don't mistake that to mean I'm a computer geek. I'm not, not by a long shot. If the computer suddenly displayed a message that said, oh, I don't know, 'destruction of island in 45 seconds,' about the best I'd be able to do is to run screaming. But I had enough training to do things like run diagnostics on house systems. Especially since there was a nice, big binder with step-by-step instructions sitting right there.

Usually, I found the quiet humming of the computers relaxing, but now, I couldn't concentrate worth beans. Virgil's words kept running through my mind. Like I said before, snitch isn't on my resume, but on the other hand, I had information that could explain John's behavior. Explain it, not excuse it.

Dithering about it, I missed one of the steps in running the diagnostic and had to go back to the beginning and start again. That was okay as far as I was concerned. As long as I was hidden away in here, I was out of the _sturm und drang_ out there.

I was staring off into space when the computer monitor I was supposed to be watching blinked, and suddenly there was Alan. There was no getting away from the Big Eye In The Sky. The computers on Thunderbird Five would have told him I was signed on to this monitor. Anyway, the screen had barely cleared before he said, "Gordy, what's going on down there?"

I frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I just had Scott calling demanding that I locate John's communicator."

"Demanded? A little peeved, was he?"

"Yeah, he was peeved like Mount St. Helens was a little earth tremor. What the hell happened?"

"Did you tell him?"

"What? Tell him what?"

"Where Johnny went. Did you tell him where Johnny went?"

"I happen to value my life, so yes, I told him. Gordy, what is going on?"

I sighed. "John lost it at the dinner table. He looked like hell, and Dad told him to have Brains take a look, and John basically said 'screw you' and left."

Alan blinked. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"Uh, do you think it's related to that woman he met?"

"Maybe. Partly. He's sick, that much I'm sure of. He felt like hell yesterday but he wouldn't give up his date, so I guess he's just so sick he's not thinking right. Where did you locate him? Australia, right?"

"Yeah. A town called West Wyalong."

"I don't know, Al. What am I supposed to do? If Scott goes out there, it's going to end badly, we both know that. But if I tell him about the girl, then I'm breaking a confidence."

Alan rolled his eyes, "You've already told me about her, you know."

"You don't count."

"Excuse me?"

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I shouldn't have had to explain it to him, but he was intent on taking offence. "Alan, did you immediately go to Dad and tell him John had a girlfriend?"

"What? No, of course not. Why would I do that?"

"You didn't because I trust you. Just like John trusts me. He knew he could tell me, because I wouldn't go to Dad and Dad Junior with the intel. And he knew I'd tell you, and that you wouldn't squeal either."

Alan pursed his lips, rolling his eyes, but I could see he was mollified. After a moment, he shook his head. "You want my opinion, I think you should let Dad know."

I wasn't convinced, but before I could continue the conversation, Alan looked to the side frowning. "Uh-oh, we've got something coming in. I gotta go."

"Yeah, okay." Alan was gone as quickly as he had come. I gave up the system check and headed for the lounge. If Alan was right, we had a rescue to handle.


	7. Chapter 7

I strode into the lounge, and almost froze. Dad and Scott were deep in a discussion, and they didn't look like they'd appreciate an interruption. But rescues took precedence over everything else, so I walked in and took a seat on the couch.

They both looked over at me, but before either of them could say anything, Alan's portrait lit up. Dad automatically hit the button. Again before either my father or brother could say anything, Alan jumped right in. "Dad, we've got a problem up in the Northwest Passage. A freighter's gone aground, and is breaking up. Conventional rescue is grounded due to weather. Twenty-five crew."

Oh great. The Arctic. I was shivering already. Scott started moving to his entry point before Dad even had a chance to reply. "All right, son, tell them we're on our way."

Wow. That was fast. Dad hadn't even hit the alert button yet. Virgil was going to have to play catch up. Not my problem, though. I headed for the elevator to Thunderbird Two's hangar.

Scott had reached the hidden entrance to Thunderbird One's hangar, but for some reason, he hadn't reached up to trigger the entrance. Instead he was watching me. Oh, no, I was so not sitting this one out. I tried just walking past him, but I got stopped by my father's voice. "Hold up there a minute, son."

I turned back to my dad, doing my best to keep the sinking feeling in my stomach from showing on my face. "Yes, sir?"

He eyed me. "Son, you were flat on your back three hours ago."

"Yes, sir, I don't deny that, but the rest did the job. I'm fit and ready."

Dad started to shake his head, unconvinced. My jaw started to tighten. If he grounded me, there was no recourse, and I knew from experience that nothing I said would change his mind. I think we were both surprised when Scott spoke up. "That's good enough for me. You know your limits better than we do. But if it starts to flare up, I'll expect you to tell me immediately."

"I will." I said firmly. The worry didn't leave Dad's eyes, but he nodded his head. I hustled away to keep him from changing his mind.

I entered the elevator that would take me to the floor of the hangar. It was a very pedestrian way of boarding a Thunderbird. Scott got a turntable and extending walkway, Virg got a super slide, Alan and John got a nifty automated couch. What did I get? An elevator. I'd tried to talk Brains into a bungee cord, but no, I got an elevator. One of these days I was going to put flame decals on it. Or maybe skulls.

And another thing. One of these days I'm going to figure out how John programmed the elevator to play that lame-ass muzak, and I'm going to rip that program out by the roots. And I wasn't deluding myself. Just because I'd been listening to 'The Girl From Ipanema' for the last two years didn't mean I wouldn't figure it out eventually.

I trotted across the hangar floor to a side hatch on Thunderbird Two. Entering, I headed up ship to the crew quarters to do the ol' presto-chango from Gordon, Handsome Olympic Hero, to Gordon, Handsome International Rescue Hero.

I was just pulling on my boots when I felt the rumbling vibration that signified the pod conveyor was in motion. That meant Virgil was on board and probably doing his own presto-chango act. I finished settling my sash and headed out the door.

I would have liked to head right to pod four to get my baby, Thunderbird Four, prepped and ready, but Virgil was a stickler for procedure, and that meant me strapping in for the take-off in the cockpit. I entered the hatch just as Thunderbird Two latched onto the pod with some loud thumps.

Virgil glanced up from his controls, and I could see mild surprise in his eyes. He looked me over as I took my place and buckled up. I ignored him. He could examine his troop all he wanted, but he wasn't going to find anything lacking.

When I was ready, I stared at him with what I hoped was cool nonchalance. Whatever he saw satisfied him, because without a word, he nodded once and settled in to getting us into the air. "Thunderbird Two to base, we're ready, Father."

"You're in the clear. God speed, son."

"Thank you, Father." Virgil flipped a few switches, and Thunderbird Two lumbered out of her lair. I watched out the window as the row of palm trees, intended to mask the size of the runway, fell back in their specially designed concrete planters.

I wasn't just admiring the view. It was part of my job. Early on, one of the planters had malfunctioned, and the tree left standing had damaged Thunderbird Two's wing, because Virgil hadn't noticed in time. Now, the truth of the matter is, since that time, Virgil has watched those palm trees like a bird watches a snake. But if I were to take my eyes off them, and Virgil caught me, Alan would be looking for a new best friend.

We hit the launch point, and the elevators built into the runway tilted to lift Thunderbird Two to a forty five degree angle. It seemed kind of stupid to me. Thunderbird Two could lift straight up into the air on her impellers. But Virgil had argued that using the main jets would get her moving faster, and cut time getting to the danger zone.

I suppose that technically that was true, but there hadn't been a lot of rescues where thirty seconds would have made the difference. The crux of the matter was, Virgil really liked the G-force slam that took place when we went from zero to five thousand miles per hour in a straight pull.

I was less crazy about it. Don't get me wrong, flying with Virgil is like riding in a Cadillac, all easy turns, and smooth as silk handling. I just don't get the whole air jock thing. You get up there, and there's nothing. Especially at the height Thunderbird Two flies at.

It's not like being on the water, where you can really feel that you're alive. Or when I'm deep-diving in Thunderbird Four. In the ocean, you can just feel the energy around you. There's no part of it that isn't just throbbing with life. The tides are like the heartbeat of the planet, you know?

But up there in nowhere land, there's nothing. Just endless emptiness. I don't count the clouds. I never look at them. It's kind of like, clouds are where heaven is, right? And what's heaven, but a place to go when you're dead? I'd had a nodding acquaintance with the ol' grim reaper, and I'm not eager to seek him out anytime soon.

Virgil took a deep breath next to me, and I took that as my cue to settle in. The rocket engines built up to banshee shriek and Virgil finally released the brakes, and off we went. Kind of like being shot out of a cannon. A very big, loud cannon.

We got up into the dark emptiness, and Virgil hit the communicator. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird Five, Alan, I'm ready for the co-ordinate feed."

"FAB, Virgil. Map 1, grid reference 000408 slash 16. Hope you're wearing your thermal underwear."

Virgil frowned as he confirmed the co-ordinates. The actual feed was by computer, but a verbal confirmation was a redundancy that just made sense. "Co-ordinates confirmed. So what's the action?"

"A freighter, the Maersk Doha II, was making a late run through the Northwest Passage. She got caught in a storm and ran aground off, uh, Prescott Island. She's loaded with 4,500 tons of biotoxic waste from ADCF Labs. Twenty-five crewmembers. The crew isn't in immediate danger, but with the storm, there is a concern that the containers with the waste will rupture, and apparently, it's like death on a stick. The storm is keeping the Canadian Coast Guard from getting there, so we need to get in and evacuate the people."

Damn it. I couldn't help to start seething. The Northwest Passage had only opened up at the start of the century before the world wised up and began to pay attention to global warming. It was various countries' refusal to acknowledge their responsibility to the planet that had eventually led to the development of the World Government and its various policing agencies, including W.A.S.P.

One of the reasons I had fought so hard to join W.A.S.P. was because I hated the exploitation and degradation of the ocean's ecosystems. It was only due to WorldGov's efforts that in the past five or so years we had started to see a turnaround. Endangered species were making comebacks all over the world, and not just in the oceans.

The poison-spewing, petroleum-based machines and power plants that had ruled the economy for over a century and a half had been replaced in all but a few backward countries with efficient wind and solar powered plants. I am proud to say that Tracy Enterprises has always been on the forefront of the change.

Alan's racing career had, in part, been a showcase for the Tracy Enterprise XC292 engine, an engine more powerful than any racing engine before it, but totally self-contained, running on a tiny amount of irradiated something or other that Brains had come up with. Since its introduction six years ago, it had become the standard in the automotive industry.

Even Thunderbird Two, for all of its power, had a smaller carbon footprint than the Lexus my dad drove when I was a kid. Anyway, the Northwest Passage ran through one of the most fragile ecosystems in the world. If I had my way, we'd say screw the crew, and work to contain the damage from the containers.

Unfortunately, this was another battle I couldn't win. International Rescue's function was to save human lives, pure and simple. If a pod of Narwhal died off, or walruses went extinct, well, that wasn't really our fault now, was it? Damn, damn, damn.

"Hey, let's not get wound up before we get there, okay?" Virgil said quietly. He hadn't even looked over at me, and he knew this was upsetting me.

"Virg, please. We can't just ignore this." I knew I was whining, for all that I tried to keep my voice low and calm.

He glanced over at me, and I could see understanding in his eyes. I wasn't the only one who treasured the environment, we all did, but sometimes it seemed as if I was the only one willing to stick my neck out over it. The understanding didn't translate into agreement. "Why don't you just go get the winch prepped. We'll probably be able to pull the crew up without Thunderbird Four getting wet."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to demand. What I did was nod and walk away. It wasn't Virgil's fault that some damn corporate executive was more interested in profit than protecting the environment.

I headed downship to the forward winch compartment. I slipped on a pair of heavy work gloves, and started unpacking and setting up the rescue basket. It just wasn't fair. There had to be something we could do about that waste. And why was it being transported through the Northwest Passage anyway?

I pulled out one of Brains' stress monitor devices and ran it over the winch and all of the connections. It wasn't like there weren't alternatives. There was that furnace that Brains had come up with. It could burn just about any waste and it was a common piece of equipment available just about anywhere in the world.

The monitor beeped, and I squinted at the screen. One of the connectors had a hairline crack. It was unlikely to fail, but there was no point in taking chances. I went to a supply locker and pulled out a replacement. I ran the monitor over it to be sure, then went back and used a power wrench to start disassembling the connection.

And why didn't narwhals count as people? There were all sorts of studies proving the intelligence of dolphins and whales. Why couldn't International Rescue rescue the animals too? It just wasn't fair.

I continued working until I was satisfied that everything was as ready as it could be, then I moved to the pod and started prepping Thunderbird Four. Yeah, it was unlikely we'd need her, but I didn't want to be caught unprepared.

I sat in Four running my start up checks, brooding over the unfairness of it all. I prefer the term 'brood' to 'sulk.' Has a more literary feel to it. And yes, I did, on occasion, read books. Anyway, I was finishing up when Virgil contacted me. "Gordon, are you ready?"

"I'm always ready, Virg, you know that."

"Uh-huh. Well, we're landing in about five minutes."

Huh? "Landing? What for?"

"Scott's put down on that island. He's going to come aboard to help with the winch."

"Right. FAB." I signed off and sat back.

To tell the truth, I was relieved. It had been at the back of my mind as I'd set things up that this would be a hell of a lot easier with John's help. I mean, I could technically handle it alone, but that meant I'd be relying on the people on the ship to handle the rescue basket on their own.

The thing about this kind of rescue is, it looks simple on the surface, but in truth, it is about as dangerous as anything we do. The rescue basket looks flimsy and fragile, but it's made of high tensile steel. If it gets whipped around in a storm, it can take a man's head off. With Scott on board manning the winch, I could drop with the basket, and make sure everyone got off the ship safely.

Good to his word, it was about five minutes later that I felt a change in the vibrations of the ship. That indicated that Thunderbird Two had gone from rear engines to her impellers, smaller VTOL engines located on all four sides of her belly that allowed Virgil to hover, and take off and land vertically.

I headed for the portside forward personnel hatch. No magic, no mind reading. I just knew that Virgil would land to the right of Thunderbird One, just as I knew that Scott would go to the forward hatch. Creatures of habit, my brothers.

Sure enough, the hatch opened as I approached, letting in a blast of frigid air, and a fair amount of blowing snow. Scott stepped through, ruddy-faced despite the heavy weather coat. He stamped his feet and shook himself, all the time grinning and sparkly-eyed. "It's nippy out there!"

I grinned back as we both braced against Virgil's lift off. It was hardly necessary as, like I said, my brother's flying was as smooth as silk. Scott slapped me on the shoulder and said, "Let's get this show on the road."

But then he headed in the wrong direction. "Uh, Scott? The winch is this way."

He never slowed, calling over his shoulder, "Change of plan. Come on."

Okay. Well, I was good at following, so I went along with him. To my surprise, I could feel Thunderbird Two landing again, and even more surprisingly, I heard the multiple thumps of the pod being released. "Scott, what the hell's going on?"

Scott boarded one of the freight elevators. I hopped in with him, and saw him key in the uppermost level of the ship. He looked over at me and said, "We've got three containers to worry about. Fortunately, they were the last ones loaded, so they're all on the top level. We're going to use the magnetic grabs to move them over here to the island. Then you'll use Thunderbird Four to evacuate the crew while Virgil transports the containers to the waste facility in a town called Kugluktuk."

I think I just stared at him, because when the elevator opened, and he started to move out, he barked, "We haven't got all day, Gordon."

I shook myself and hustled after him. I was like, in shock. "Does Dad know about this?"

"What? What are you talking about? Of course he knows about it."

I could see Scott was getting a bit irritated at me, so I just got to work, running the diagnostics on the huge magnetic grabs. But as I worked, I couldn't seem to wipe the smile from my face. Scott didn't notice, or if he did, he decided not to comment on it.

We used to only have one set of these grabs, located near the main winch room. They could be used with the pod in place. But as time went on, Virgil had argued for these bigger, more powerful ones, and had eventually gotten them.

I could still remember the nightmare when we had first used them on a rescue. Oddly enough, it hadn't been all that far from here, up on the Beaufort Sea. We'd actually used the grabs to transport Thunderbird One after she had fallen through the ice and was too damaged to fly.

These grabs could easily handle the containers on a ship. Using monitors placed in the pod bay, I maneuvered the big grabs out of their storage compartments. I had the whole area lit up because it was still dark out, although it was getting close to dawn, local time.

I could feel Scott hovering behind me. He's a real control freak, and I knew if I made any mistakes he'd be there like a shot, taking over. But for all that, he was also one of the best commanders I'd ever worked for, and I'd served under some of the finest in the world.

He stood behind me, letting me get on with the job, and I was determined to make him proud. And in plain fact, I was more than adequate when it came to remote manipulation. In Thunderbird Four, it was my meat and bread.

Virgil came on the intercom, "You two ready back there?"

Scott responded, "We're all set. Have they lit up the containers?"

"Yes, Scott, they've marked them with beacons for us. Sending the imagery through."

A secondary monitor lit up, and there she was. All in all, she seemed to be in pretty good shape. She was listing about 2 degrees, and she was being ruthlessly pounded by the surf, but she'd gone aground basically straight on, and her prow had absorbed most of the damage. To my eye, she looked seaworthy. All it would take was a couple of tugs to pull her off the shore, and she'd be up and running.

Of course, that assumed the tugs could get there before the ice closed in. The storm was blowing pretty fiercely, and one of the big gambles with the Northwest Passage was when it would close up. We like to think we've tamed the global warming problem, but in truth, weather patterns across the world were still pretty chaotic.

None of that was my problem, though. The ship was a typical medium-sized freighter, loaded with maybe 150 forty-foot long containers stacked three deep on the deck. The deck was floodlit, and three of the forward most containers were marked with flashing lights at all four corners.

I flexed my fingers as I prepared to take on the job. Scott startled me, saying, "You sure you can handle this?"

I glanced at him with a fierce grin. "In my sleep."

He responded dryly, "Asleep on the job. Just what I needed."

"Just sit back and relax and watch the master at work."

"No, I think I'd rather stay here and watch you."

I snorted and opened my communications line. "Al, put me through to the load master, would you?"

"FAB." Alan's reply was all business, and I heard a click.

"Uh, hello?"

"Hello. This is International Rescue. My name is Gordon. Who am I speaking with, please?"

"Jassim Al-Bakri. Call me Mike."

I smiled. "Okay, Mike, we're going to pull off those containers."

"Yes, I understand."

Chatty fellow, wasn't he? "Okay. The way we're going to do this is I'll drop magnetic grabs down and latch on, then I want you to release the locks, and we'll extract straight up."

"Good. Starboard side first."

Straight to work. My kind of guy. "Understood. Dropping grabs now."

I hit the control to drop the grabs down. I could hear Scott behind me, keeping up a steady stream of instructions to Virgil to keep us in the ballpark. It was kind of like playing one of those big claw games at the arcade, except that it took three people to play. And the prize was a big ol' box o' death.

There was a moment when the grabs started to sway. Handling Thunderbird Two when she wasn't carrying her pod was hard even in clear weather, and I had to tip my hat to Virgil's ability to get the ship to behave in these near blizzard conditions. I paused until the sway stopped, then lowered away. Between the three of us, we got the grabs perfectly placed, and I watched the monitor as a group of sailors swarmed over the container, releasing it from its bonds.

"All clear." Mike stated as calmly as if the action was taking place in a calm port rather than in the middle of a storm.

I heard Scott behind me, saying, "Okay, straight up, now, Virg."

I kept my eyes on my monitors and the stress readings. The container didn't weigh anywhere near the maximum tolerance of the grabs, but with the wind blowing, I wasn't prepared to take any chances. As soon as the container cleared the ship, I retracted the grabs as quickly as I safely could. The trip to the island was so short that I didn't have the grabs fully retracted before Scott gave the order to drop them again.

With Virg holding Two rock steady, I lowered the container down to the ground. I set it down so softly it wouldn't have turned a whisker on an Arctic hare. We moved back to the ship and got the second and third containers just as easily as the first.

The whole operation took a little over an hour, and by the time we were done, the night sky had gone all gray with the oncoming dawn. It was going to be a dark and gloomy day. I stood up and carefully stretched my back to be sure I was still fit. Not a single twinge.

I turned and found Scott giving me the eye. I just raised my eyebrows at him, daring him to say anything. He stared intently for a moment more, while I tried not to squirm, then he turned on his heel and led the way up to the cockpit.

I could both hear and feel Thunderbird Two settling over the third container in preparation for transferring it to the waste facility. I entered the cockpit behind my brother to find Virgil hard at work, setting the grabs.

I could have done that for him, but I didn't even offer. I said Scott was a control freak? He was nothing compared to Virgil where Thunderbird Two was concerned. He might be willing to let me work the winch and grabs when he was flying his ship, but in this case, where it was on the ground? Not a chance.

I looked out the windshield and shivered. It was nice and balmy here onboard Thunderbird Two, but I wasn't going to be staying here. I could see Thunderbird One about 100 feet away, and of course, the other two containers were black silhouettes against the snow. Wait a minute… "Hey, where's the pod?"

Scott glanced up at me, then turned back to Virgil. "You going to be okay on your own?"

"Absolutely."

With a nod he turned back to me. "Go get your sweater. You don't want to catch a chill."

Apparently I didn't need to know where the pod was. Well, they couldn't keep me in the dark for long, unless Scott was planning on handling Thunderbird Four himself. Which, of course, I'd let him do. Just as soon as we saw a porker flying by.

I hit the locker room, and pulled out my heavy Arctic coat, along with gloves and a knit hat. The uniform cap was fine and well in sunny weather, but I wasn't about to freeze my ears off just for International Rescue fashion.

I headed for the same hatch that Scott had entered by, and sure enough, he was there waiting for me. He glanced at my toasty warm hat, and I waited for the lecture about wearing the uniform on duty, but to my surprise, he didn't say a word. He just opened the hatch and led the way outside.

Oh man, it was freezing out there. The snow was heavy, almost slush, and the air was biting cold. We sloshed and slogged our way over to Thunderbird One. I was grateful that Scott had kept her in ready mode, with the heaters running full blast. Looking at Scott's red ears, I'm betting he was just as grateful, and probably jealous of my warm hat.

Of course, Scott being Scott, he'd never admit to anything as plebian as being cold, and he just got strapped in for liftoff, trusting me to do the same. It was a short hop to the shore of the island, where I saw Pod Four perched at the edge of a small drop off. It was only a few yards back from where the surf was pounding away, driven by the wind.

I nodded approval at the positioning, and headed for Thunderbird One's hatch. I heard Scott a step behind me and I looked back, curious to see what he was doing. He returned my look and cocked his eyebrow, waiting for my comment. Okay, I can play along. "What are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

Well now, that just made no sense. "On Thunderbird Four? What for?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "No, not on Thunderbird Four. To the pod. You're going to ferry the crew to the pod, and I'll get them settled."

Sometimes I think that freaky weird psychic thing Scott has going on with Virgil is a big disadvantage. I mean, usually, he is an excellent communicator. His instructions are clear and concise, and I'm totally confident that I know exactly what he wants. Other times, like now, he'll be absolutely obtuse, and I won't have a clue. I think it's because he can tell Virgil things without ever opening his mouth, and he forgets that the mental talking thing doesn't work with the rest of us.

I gave him a stern look to remind him to talk to me and then I led the way. Scott had landed within a few feet of the pod, which was just as well, because the snow had started to drift up against the sides. The blast from his landing had scoured it away, and we were able to make it to the pod's main side hatch without any trouble. I keyed it open and led the way aboard.

Unlike Thunderbirds One and Two, the pod was currently unheated, and I shivered as my breath misted in front of me. First order of business was to get the heaters up and running. Scott might be an iron man where cold was concerned, but we were expecting company, and a frosty welcome was just plain inhospitable.

I hit the control panel and got the thermal blowers going and looked around for my brother. He had already started setting up the safe room, an area at the back of the pod designed to temporarily keep passengers comfortable until the pod was reunited with Thunderbird Two and her passenger holding areas. I watched for a moment, then headed over. I pulled the hat off my head and handed it to Scott. "Here, you need this more than I do."

He glanced at it, then grinned, taking it from my hand and immediately pulling it on. "Thanks. It'll be nice to feel my ears again."

I grinned back, pulling on my uniform cap. "You're welcome. I'm heading out now. Watch out for the exhaust."

"Okay. Be careful out there."

"Always." I headed over to Thunderbird Four. It's a funny thing. Scott is always saying stuff like be careful. Alan takes offense every time, saying that Scott doesn't trust him. But when he says it to me, I just feel good. It's one of those dumb little ways that I know he gives a damn about me, you know?

Anyway, I boarded Thunderbird Four and slid into my seat. All my earlier prep work paid off, because the systems were warmed up and ready to go. I flicked a few switches, and the pod door started to drop to become a ramp. I opened up my communications system. "Thunderbird Five, I am in launch mode."

"FAB, Thunderbird Four." Alan's voice was exasperated. "Maybe you'll have better luck than me."

"What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Well, now that the toxic stuff is gone, the captain of that ship says he and the crew are staying put. They don't want to leave the ship."

"Aw, damn it. That's just plain stupid. Put me through to him, would you Al?"

"Sure thing. His name is Captain Al-Bakri."

"Wait. That was the load master's name, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but this is a different guy. Maybe they're brothers or something."

"Yeah, okay. Go ahead and put him through."

"FAB."

I heard a change in background noise and knew I was on with the captain. I decided to play dumb. "Captain Al-Bakri, this is Gordon of International Rescue. I'll be approaching your portside boarding hatch within five minutes. I can evacuate four people at a time. Please be ready."

"As I told the other man, we do not wish to evacuate. Please do not trouble yourself any further." Alan was right. This wasn't the same man.

"Captain, your ship is aground. With this storm, the passage may be blocked until next spring. It's unsafe for you to remain here. Now, please, let's just get this over with."

"I have been instructed by my employers to stay with the ship. I understand your concern, but it is unnecessary. The ship is secure, and my people are safe enough. When the storm is ended, my employers will send people to assess our position. If the passage is blocked, so be it. We will take measures to weather the winter. If not, my employers will send a tug to pull us off the bar."

I hated to say it, but the captain was making a lot of sense. This ship was a multi-million dollar investment, and chances were the freight was worth a ton of money too. And if the crew wasn't in immediate danger, once the storm was over, they could be removed by helijet if necessary. Still, I had to make sure. "Okay, I understand, sir. Do you need the entire crew, though? With the ship on the rocks, we could take off all your unnecessary personnel."

"I thank you for your offer, however, my employers have authorized a generous bonus for any who stay. None of my crew are so wealthy as to be willing to give up the money that has been promised."

"Ah. I understand. Well, is there anything you need before we leave?"

"You have already provided a tremendous service. I have been fearful from the moment those containers of that filth were brought aboard. I praise Allah that you have removed them."

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask. "Why did you take them onboard anyway? You had to know the danger they presented to the ecosystem out here."

"Yes, I knew. This is a land of great beauty, and I weep for every piece of rubbish that I see. My employers pay a very high price for the right to traverse these waters. When the chemical plant that created that waste was shut down by the Canadian government, and we were asked to transport the containers, my employers felt we had no choice."

The captain's explanation put a whole different light on the situation, and the resentment I didn't even know I was feeling evaporated leaving me with a much lighter heart. I realized my tone had been accusatory, and I was quick to apologize. "Captain Al-Bakri, I'm sorry if I was rude. I didn't realize the situation."

There was silence for almost a full minute, and my heart sank, but then he replied in a low voice. "You have no need, Gordon. I think you and I are of a like mind about these things. Go in peace."

Uh, yeah. If only it was that easy. "Thank you, Captain. Calm seas and fair winds." I switched over to internal communications. "Thunderbird Four to Scott. Hey, bro, you can stop what you're doing. I'm not bringing the crew over."

I winced waiting for the reply. Sure enough, Scott barked, "What? Why not?"

"The ship's in good order, and with the toxic waste gone, the crew has decided to ride out the storm on board."

"Not happening. Where are you?"

I took a breath and reminded myself that Scott's ire was not really directed at me. "I'm heading back to the pod."

"Belay that and stand by." Scott clicked off in order to do his own negotiating with Captain Al-Bakri.

I settled Thunderbird Four into station keeping, and tried to have a little faith. The thing was, none of my brothers really understood the way sailors thought. I completely got the crew's desire to stay with their ship, especially when it was in danger, but I wasn't sure Scott would be as understanding.

As I waited for the outcome, my thoughts drifted to the problem of what to do about John. Now, that was something I just didn't get. I was known to be touchy and a grouch when I wasn't feeling well, but nothing, and I mean nothing, would ever make me snap at Grandma the way he did. And to run off like that? Absolutely unbelievable.

And where did that leave me? Did I go to Dad with what I knew about the woman John was seeing? And what about that woman? What could she be like that she could make John forget everything and take off when he was so obviously sick? What if he decided to marry her or something? Would that mean he'd leave International Rescue and go off and what, work at some observatory? Where would that leave us?

God, I really didn't like these thoughts, and when Scott interrupted them, I was relieved. "Gordon, return to the pod. We're going home."

I kept the smile out of my voice. "FAB."

Scott had sounded a bit disgruntled, and I suspect that Captain Al-Bakri hadn't so much convinced him as simply refused to buckle under to Scott's orders. I headed back to the shore, and once I was lined up with the pod, I entered the command, and let the computer run the retrieval program. I sat back and kept an eye on it, but it was a delicate procedure, and I let the on board computer handle it.

Back on board pod four, I shut down Thunderbird Four and headed for the hatch. Personally, I would have preferred just to sit in my cozy little ship, but it was unfair to leave the work of dismantling the safe room to Scott.

I hopped down from the launching rack and headed to the back of the pod. Sure enough, Scott was hard at work, taking down the secured seating. I joined him and started to work. After a short while, I couldn't take the silence any longer. "It'll be okay, Scott. Captain Al-Bakri knows what he's doing."

"Captain Al-Bakri is getting a bonus." Scott said in a tone of disgust. "Dad got on to the ship owners, and it turns out they offered the whole crew a bonus to stay on board."

"Yeah, I know. He told me."

"No amount of money is worth a human life, Gordon."

I could have argued with him, tried to get him to see it from a sailor's point of view, but I just shrugged. I had bigger fish to fry. "Scott, about Johnny…"

Scott slammed the door to an equipment locker with more force than necessary. "Yeah, what about him?"

Okay, the ice here was super thin, but still I pressed on. "Um, well, I wanted to let you know, he met someone. He met a woman at that wedding he went to, and he went back to the mainland last night to meet with her."

I kept working, but I was hyper aware of my brother standing frozen next to me. "Last night? How the hell did he leave last night?"

Oh boy. "Um, well, he uh, used the stealth shield to mask his take off. He left while you and Dad were in the hangar with Virgil."

"And you knew this?" He asked in that deadly calm tone that was as scary as hell.

I turned and faced the music. "Yes. He asked me to cover for him, but I didn't have to, because Virgil took you to the hangar."

Scott's jaw was working, but I could see he understood I was just backing John up, the way I always backed my brothers up. After a moment he calmed down enough to ask, "Anything else?"

"Well, he's been sick since yesterday afternoon. I mean, really sick, not just sniffles or anything. Scott, I'm not excusing the way he acted at dinner, but I thought you should know all the circumstances."

Scott nodded. "I appreciate that, Gordy. I was really pissed at dinner, but I've pretty much realized something had to be seriously wrong for John to act like that."

Over the sound of the storm, I could hear Thunderbird Two returning. Sure enough, Virgil's voice filled the air. "Thunderbird Two to Scott. I'm landing for the third container. How's Gordon doing with the evacuation?"

"He's not. The crew has decided to stay behind."

"What? Why, in God's name?"

"Money."

Oh, that was so totally unfair. "Scott, if Thunderbird One was damaged, how much money would Dad have to offer you to get you to stay with her?"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

I sighed. "Don't assume that people can't get attached to their ships just because they can't fly, Scott. Those men are staying because the Doha is their ship. The money is great, but I guarantee you that they would stay even if they weren't offered a dime."

I knew it was true even as I said it. Sailors have loved their ships since time immemorial. Captain Al-Bakri's feelings for the Doha was no different than mine for Thunderbird Four, or Scott's for Thunderbird One. It was just human nature.

I don't know if he bought it, but Scott rolled his eyes, and said no more. Virgil's tone was carefully neutral when he replied, "Okay, so I'll be back in about fifteen minutes to pick up the pod. Scott, you going to head home?"

There wasn't really a question. "No, I'll hang around until you're back."

Scott didn't like to leave until he was sure everything was okay. He'd stay until Thunderbird Two was on her way home before he'd take off himself. Of course, he'd beat us home by an hour even if he left an hour after we did. That suited him. He could watch us take off here, and still watch us land at home. The control freak in his natural habitat.

By the time Thunderbird Two had returned from delivering the last of the containers, Scott and I had pod four shipshape and locked down. With a high five for a job well done, Scott left for Thunderbird One, and I made my way up to the cockpit for the trip home.

Virgil looked wasted, and I realized that unlike me, he'd been up for a day and a night. It was pointless, but still I offered, "Hey, man, you want me to fly us home? You look like you could use some sleep."

"Thanks, but I can handle it."

"Okay, well, I'm right here if you change your mind."

"I appreciate that. How's your back?"

"It's fine. The wonder pills worked."

"Good." Virgil looked over at me. "So, what did you decide?"

"About what?"

"About telling Dad whatever it is you've been keeping quiet about John."

Never let it be said that Virgil is subtle. "I told Scott about it. He'll let Dad know."

Virgil nodded. "Care to let me in on it?"

Well, I'd already told Scott and Alan. Might as well make a clean breast of it. And really, I was glad for the chance. On the way home I told Virgil all about it, including the killer looks John had given me, and how they had frightened me. Throughout it all, he listened quietly, nodding his understanding.

It felt good to let it all out. I mean, with Al, it was like, I don't know, a couple of co-conspirators, if you know what I mean. But with Virgil, it was like, well, like how I imagined going to a confessional in a Catholic church would be. I just let it all out, and waited for my brother's absolution.

When I finished, he mulled it over for a while before saying, "I think you're right, it's the illness that's causing John to act this way. Once we get him home and healthy, he'll be fine."

"Yeah, but Virg, what if he won't come home? What if he marries that woman or something?"

"Then we deal with it. Don't make it sound like the end of the world, Gordon. This is John, after all. What do you think, that he'll get married and leave and never be a part of the family again? Not going to happen. He wouldn't let it happen." Virgil shook his head emphatically. "If he moves away, we'll find a way to handle the workload. But he'll still be our brother, he'll still be a part of the family."

"But what if his wife doesn't, you know, like us or something?" Gawd, was I actually whining?

Virgil snorted. "Women just naturally like Tracy men. With me and Scott, it's our good looks and style. With John and Alan it's that damn blond hair. With you, it's…" He thought about it for a moment. "It's Dad's money. I mean, come on, when was the last time you met a woman who flat out didn't like you?"

Oh, if he only knew. Still, his crack made me feel better. "True. You can keep your little fantasy about you and Scott. You're the ones who have to worry about women. I'm just naturally lovable, but you two aren't blessed with my excellent personality. And you sure as hell are delusional about your looks."

Virgil laughed softly. "Yes, well, we'll just have to muddle through somehow. You know, it's not like you to worry so much."

I nodded. "I know, but Virg, there was just something about that look he gave me that just scared the crap out of me."

"Don't put so much stock in it, kiddo. I seem to remember last year when you had that virus you were shooting looks that could wither flowers on the vine. Just give this a chance to blow over, and things will work out fine, okay?"

You know, it was good advice. I really was blowing it way out of proportion. I don't know what the hell was wrong with me. I was getting downright paranoid, and I can say I didn't like it one damn bit. I took a deep breath and let it out and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

It kinda felt like a weight was gone from my shoulders. I mean, I was still worried about Johnny, but who wouldn't be? The guy was sick as a dog, and really needed to come home, crawl into bed and let Grandma take care of him. But between Virg and Alan, I was finally able to let go of my, um, queasiness over that stupid split-second look.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time we made it home, it was well into a hot South Seas day. Virgil and I headed to the lounge for the post rescue debrief. To our surprise, when we got there it was empty. I spotted our father on the balcony looking at something off to the side. I headed over to him, Virgil trailing behind.

We got another surprise when we came out on the balcony, and heard and saw one of our family jets just leaving the runway. The almost vertical climb once off the tarmac immediately identified the pilot as Scott. I know my eyebrows were way up, but it was Virgil who asked, "Dad? Where's Scott going?"

Dad glanced at us both then led the way back into the lounge. "He's going to go have a talk with your brother. You boys can take it easy. We'll debrief after dinner."

Virgil stopped in his tracks. After a moment, he ran a hand over his face. "Yeah. I think I'll go hit the sack. Let me know when Scott gets back."

Dad nodded vaguely, and Virgil trudged away. Dad eyed me, asking, "What about you? You going to take a nap?"

"No, I'm fine. I guess I'll head down to the hangar. I have to finish up on a probe I was working on."

"Before you go, son, take a seat. I'd like to talk to you."

Twenty-four years old, and my stomach still seized up when my dad used that tone. I kept my face calm as I sat. I leaned back and crossed my legs. I doubt my casual demeanor fooled him. He took his seat behind his desk, and folded his hands before him. "All right. What can you tell me about your brother?"

Okay then. "I was in the pool two mornings ago when he showed up. He had been out all night with a woman he'd met at the Weingard's wedding. He told me he wanted to go see her again that night. Later that day, he came into the workroom and he looked sick. I asked him if he was going to stay home, and he said no, he thought this girl was special, and he'd told her he'd meet her, and he didn't want to stand her up. Then yesterday, he seemed sicker than ever, and well, I guess you know the rest."

Dad stared at me like he thought there might be more, but there was no way I was going to tell him about the looks John had given me. Besides, I had a feeling Dad might have been on the receiving end of one of those looks himself so he sure didn't need a description from me. After a moment longer he nodded. "Thank you. Well, I could wish you'd mentioned this illness earlier, but Scott will get him straightened out. How's your back?"

"It's fine, sir. Once I slept, the pain cleared right up."

"All right then. I'll see you at dinner."

I nodded and got up. I started for the workroom by way of the kitchen. I stepped through the swinging door and found Grandma arranging some posies. "Hey, we got anything for a snack?"

Grandma looked up and said, "There are frozen grapes in the refrigerator, or you can have an apple."

Actually, I'd been thinking more along the lines of a side of beef, but the grapes sounded pretty good. I went over to the freezer and pulled out a plastic bag with a handful of grapes. I stopped for a moment. "Uh, Grandma, I wanted to let you know that Johnny's been sick for a couple of days. I didn't tell you because he found himself a girl over in Australia, and he didn't want anybody to know. Still, he had no right to mouth off at you like that."

I guess that didn't make a lot of sense, but Grandma nodded anyway. "Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. You know your brother would never have been so nasty if he felt well, don't you?"

Leave it to my grandma to lead the way in forgiveness. "Yeah, I know. Still, I didn't like the way he made you cry."

"Well, now, I wasn't too fond of that myself. But your brother is a good man. And a good grandson. He's given me far more reasons for joy than he ever has for tears, so I am putting aside that little scene at dinner, and I expect the rest of you to set it aside just as I have."

"Aw, but Grandma, I was going to get a crowbar and rearrange the part in his hair."

She smiled. "Just you never mind about that. And keep in mind that it's your brother Scott who's gone to bring him home. I think it's safe to say he'll explain to John all about the error of his ways. And it's a three hour flight."

She had a point. I shuddered at the thought. "Yeah, he'd probably prefer the crowbar."

Grandma laughed. She reached over and touched my arm with her soft hand. "I heard you boys went up and stopped some pollution in Canada."

"Yeah. We were supposed to be taking the crew off a container ship that went aground in the Northwest Passage. Instead we took some containers with toxic waste off the ship and delivered it to a waste station."

"That was your doing, of course."

"No, actually I don't know who made the decision. Dad probably. All I can say is I'm happy as hell we got that crap out of there. I mean, I'm all for saving lives, but what's the point if we let the world be poisoned?"

It was an old argument, but I was definitely preaching to the choir where Grandma was concerned. I might be the most fervent ecologist in the family, but she was right behind me. And when I got off my high horse, I knew that Dad felt the same way. It was his vision that led to the development of so many of the world's greenest technologies, after all.

Grandma patted my arm. "Well, I'm glad it all worked out for you."

She turned back to her flowers, and I headed down to the workshop. When I got there, I pulled out the probe I had set aside a couple of days ago and got to work, letting the work fill my mind, pushing out the whole issue of John and his attitude out of my head.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a few hours later, and I had long since finished with the probe and gone on to working on our fire fighting bulldozer, the Firefly, when my watch vibrated and beeped. Stretching, I lifted the watchface. "Yeah? Alan, what's up?"

"You tell me. What the hell is going on down there?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, sighing. Alan always said he didn't mind duty on TB5. He always said he liked the peace and quiet. But every time he was up there, he'd go crazy thinking things were happening down here.

He took a deep breath then shook his head. "Dad called. He's been trying to get in touch with Scott for the last hour, but Scott isn't answering. Dad had me checking on his location."

"Really? So, did you find out where he was?"

"Yeah. West Wyalong. He's with John."

"Oh. He's probably in the middle of ripping Johnny a new one and doesn't want to be disturbed."

Alan shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, do you really think Scott would ignore a call from Dad?"

I rubbed my eyes. "Yeah, you're right. I better get up there, see what's happening."

"Yeah. And when you find out, call me, okay?"

"Yeah. I will. Give me fifteen to get the lay of the land."

"Okay, but call me. Don't forget."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and signed off. I headed for the lounge. First Johnny, now Scott. Weird. I took the monorail to save time, and as I was coming through the bedroom wing, I hesitated at Virgil's door. Thing about Virg is he really hates being forced to wake up. If he wakes up on his own, he's okay, but if you wake him up, he's like a Great White with a toothache. Just not something you want to deal with, you know?

But the thing was, he really needed to be in on whatever was happening. After a moment to gather up my courage, and to get myself ready to run, I tapped lightly on his door. I figured if he answered, fine. If he was asleep, and I woke him, I had a head start. I waited a few moments, and just as I started to turn away, he opened the door. Lucky for me, he looked like he'd been up for a few minutes. "Yeah? What's up?"

"We've got trouble," I said shortly and walked away, knowing his curiosity would get him moving. I continued on down the hall with Virgil behind me. He didn't say anything, so neither did I.

We came out in the lounge, and I just kind of stopped in my tracks. Far from being in a state of high anxiety, our father was sitting calmly at his desk, working on some report or other. Virgil had come up beside me, frowning, and now he looked at me and said, "Well?"

The question brought Dad's head up, and he looked from Virgil to me. "Boys? Something going on?"

I felt a mild ire. I was sure to Alan this was some obscure joke, and he was laughing his damn head off. With both Dad and Virgil now staring at me, all I could do is shrug. "Al said you were worried about Scott."

To my surprise, Dad looked a little sheepish. "Well, not exactly worried. I tried to call him, but I he didn't answer. I had your brother check on his position. When I tried again, he answered just fine."

"Where is he?" Virgil asked as if surprised that Scott wasn't home.

"He's on his way home. He'll be here by dinnertime."

I frowned. "What about John?"

"Apparently he'll be staying over on the mainland." Dad's voice was carefully neutral.

Oh boy. That was so not good. Any time Dad was careful about what he said, things were Bad with a capital B. I started to try to think of ways to escape without being obvious about it.

Virgil, of course, is about as subtle as Thunderbird Two. "What do you mean, Dad? Why isn't he coming home? And why didn't Scott answer when you called?"

Thing is, Dad knows the way Virgil is same as I do, so where he'd have gotten defensive if I'd asked, to Virgil, he simply answered, "Scott says John is fine, and he'll explain when he gets here. As far as not answering is concerned, he said he wasn't in a position to respond."

Totally reasonable explanation, right? Virgil nodded, and turned away. Dad sat down, a pensive look on his face. And that was that. I decided to hit the shower before dinner, so I headed for my bedroom.

Did you ever see one of those pictures that have pictures hidden within them? You stare at it, knowing something isn't quite right, but not able to put your finger on it, until suddenly, the picture within becomes clear, and you wonder why you couldn't see it before.

I felt like I was at that stage where you haven't found the hidden picture. I was uncomfortable, with an annoying little niggle turning my stomach sour, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what it was. I took my shower, toweled off, and plopped down in front of my computer.

I could tell Alan had been anxious by the speed with which he responded to my hail. "Gordy? So what's going on?"

"It's probably nothing, Al. Dad got in touch with Scott right after he talked to you. Seems he wasn't in a position to respond to the call. He's on his way home now."

Alan blinked. "Oh. Okay. Damn, the way Dad was acting, I thought he'd been kidnapped or something."

"Yeah."

Alan frowned at my subdued response. "Everything's all right, right? There's nothing else going on, right?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose so, but John isn't coming home with Scott."

"What? Why not?"

"I told you, I don't know. Scott told Dad he'd explain when he got here."

"That's…" Alan paused, thinking. "Gordy, didn't you say John was really sick?"

"Yeah. Seemed like it was more than just flu."

"This doesn't make any sense. I can't imagine Scott leaving him there if he was sick. I mean, c'mon, this is Scott we're talking about. The Mother Hen Society's poster boy."

I found myself nodding slowly. Alan had hit the nail on the head. "Yeah, but there isn't a lot we can do about it until Scott gets home."

"Like Hell. I'm gonna call him."

I shrugged. "Okay, good luck with that. I mean, if he won't talk to Dad, what makes you think he'll talk to you?"

"Because I'm me." Alan smirked, then signed off before I could get him to promise to call me back.

I stared at the monitor for a few minutes trying to convince myself that nothing was wrong. John was a big boy, and capable of taking care of himself. Hell, we all were. And didn't I just go toe to toe with Dad because he wanted to coddle me when I knew I was fine? Well, maybe not toe to toe, but still, the principle is the same. If John wanted help, he knew where to get it. Scott was probably just granting John the same leeway he had granted me. So why did I feel like the Sword of Damocles was hanging over my head?

I shook my head and snorted to myself. Grandma always said there was no use buying trouble like a mule, so I decided to put the whole situation out of my head. I also decided to head over the kitchen, see if Grandma needed any help with dinner.

I found her in the dining room setting the table. "Here, Grandma, I'll do that."

She looked up and smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart. If you'll finish up here, I'll get dinner on the table."

"Um, Scott isn't home yet. He went over to the mainland to check on John."

"Well, when will they be here, do you know?"

"No. Scott's on his way, but I don't know when he'll get here, and John stayed over."

Grandma paused. "He's staying over?"

I nodded. "That's what Dad said. I don't know why."

She pursed her lips. "Well, dinner is ready now. We'll go ahead and eat, and Scott can have leftovers."

I hid a smirk. Nobody, but nobody messed with my grandma where food was concerned. Scott would be lucky to get the leftovers. I finished setting the table, then helped deliver the meal to the table.

I sighed as I took my seat. Lamb shanks. Not exactly my favorite. Dad and Virgil joined us and we dug in. Well, Virgil dug. Dad and I just ate. I mean, it wasn't nasty or anything, how could it be with Grandma doing the cooking? But still, it was lamb shanks.

We were halfway through the meal when Scott walked in. "Sorry I'm late everybody. What's that? Lamb? Great!"

Scott sat down and helped himself. I really wanted to know what was up with John, but the manners that had been drilled into me kept me quiet while Scott was catching up. After he'd had the chance to serve himself, and get a few mouthfuls of meat, Dad spoke up, "Son, why didn't your brother come home with you?"

Scott looked up, swallowed to clear his throat and said, "Well, he's still pretty sick but this woman he's met, Jane, is taking really good care of him. Really good care. It just seemed a better idea to let him stay there. He's sorry, by the way. He knows he was acting like an idiot. When he gets home, he'll be doing some big time apologizing."

It always amazed me how Scott could make everything better with just a few words. The uneasiness I had disappeared, and I couldn't help the grin that formed. "Really good care, huh?"

With a quick glance at Grandma, Scott smiled. "Really good care."

"So, is she pretty?" Virgil asked.

"Drop dead gorgeous is more like it. Way too good for the likes of John, but she really seems… smitten, I guess you'd call it."

"John and Jane. Could it be any more boring?" I commented.

Scott shook his head. "She's not boring, kiddo. No, she's definitely not boring."

"Sounds like she's not the only one who's smitten." My dad had a speculative look in his eye.

Scott shrugged. "I'll tell you what, Dad, John couldn't do much better. She's beautiful, smart, witty, and very classy. If she weren't so obviously falling for him, I might make a play for her myself."

"So, what does she do? Is she Australian?" Grandma had that scary 'great grandkids' gleam in her eye.

"Do? Uh, I'm not really sure. It didn't come up. And actually, I'm not sure that she is Australian. She had an accent, maybe European, but I didn't ask."

"Son, do you have any idea when John will be well enough to come home? I'm not one to stand in the way of true love, but every day he's away, the work falls further behind."

"We can cover for him." Virgil stated stoutly. "As long as we know he's going to be gone, we can reschedule the work to make sure everything gets done."

I nodded my agreement. When we were kids, I used to resent my older brothers' girlfriends. They took attention away from me, and I didn't like it. But these days, I understand the need for an outside voice to keep you steady. I wanted that for my brothers and also for myself. If a little extra work got that for Johnny, then I was all for it.

"So, Scott… Does this Jane have any sisters?" I asked, waggling my eyebrows.

My brother smirked. "If she does, I'm not sharing them with you."

"All right, that's enough of that. Women are not candy bars to be shared or hoarded," Grandma said with finality.

We all settled down to our dinner. I found Grandma had made up for the lamb by making chocolate banana cake for dessert, which was totally awesome. I made sure I got a big piece of it. Feeling a lot better about things in general, I did kitchen duty, cleaning the pots and pans while Virgil loaded the dishwasher.

Together with Scott, we joined our father in the lounge for the post mission debrief, which was short and sweet. The success of the mission gave us all a mellow feeling. Though it was barely past sunset, Scott excused himself, saying the long day was catching up with him, and Dad and I settled down to a game of chess, with Virgil playing the piano in the background.

You know, I could do worse than to spend a quiet evening with my father. He was hell-on-wheels at chess, and despite my cunning and bold play, he whupped my butt handily. Then he ragged on Virgil until my brother left the piano to come take my place. Despite my encouragement and attempts at distraction, Dad nailed Virg's hide to the wall, too.

It was a nice time, and we all were the better for it. But then Dad suggested we all hit the hay early because of the extra work we'd be doing. I couldn't see any flaw in that thinking, and truth be told, I was feeling the stress of the day, so I headed to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

When I woke up the next morning, I moved very cautiously at first, but everything was in working order, so I got up and stretched. I was a bit annoyed with myself because instead of getting up when I had first awoken, an hour ago, I had rolled over and gone back to sleep. Now I didn't have time before breakfast to go for a swim.

The day was likely to be wall-to-wall fun, working hard to make up for John, and for a moment, I regretted my ready agreement the night before. But it was only for a moment. Robbed of my swim, I made do with a longer than usual shower, then got dressed and headed for the kitchen.

Entering the room, I spied my Grandma at the stove. Couldn't help it. Just had to grab her and swing her around. I ended by dipping her deeply. "Good morning, gorgeous!"

Now, while she always pretended to take offense when I did it, the twinkle in her eye was always worth the spoon whacking that I got. She didn't disappoint, pursing her lips to hide the smile. "Gordon! Let me up! Lord, what am I to do with you?"

"Feed me? Give me a piece of that chocolate banana cake for breakfast?"

"Hmmph," she snorted, straightening her clothes. "Cake is not for breakfast. You go sit, and I'll bring you some eggs."

"And bacon?" I asked wistfully. Grandma had banned bacon from the house a couple of months ago after reading yet another health scare.

"I've got fruit, and some nice potatoes. You don't need meat at every meal."

I sat down after pouring myself a cup of coffee. "Yes, I do," I muttered under my breath.

"Me too," Dad said softly, looking up from his news pad, sympathy in his eyes.

"I heard that. Be thankful for what you have, please." Grandma gave us both The Look. I, for one, ducked my head and kept quiet. Dad's no fool. He went back to his news and the room grew quiet.

Soon, Grandma was next to me, sliding eggs onto my plate. "Now, where are your brothers?"

I didn't have a clue. While it wasn't unusual for Virgil to be slow getting to the breakfast table, Scott was almost always the first one up. He'd always been able to get by on just a few hours sleep, which was lucky, because he'd always been an insomniac.

Still, I felt a certain need to make a comment. "They went on a bacon run."

Dad tried to smother the snicker, but he wasn't very successful. Grandma straightened up. "All right, you two. I'll have no more of that at this table. If you don't like what I cook, just say so, and I'll pack my bags and go home today."

My heart seized up in my chest. "Grandma, no! I was just teasing! I love your cooking!"

"Mom, this is your home! Please, don't say things like that!"

She maintained her rigid posture for a moment longer, then relaxed. "You just need to understand that I don't deprive you of things like bacon to be mean. I just want you to be healthy and strong."

'We know that, Mom. We know."

"Grandma, you're the best cook in the world. But even if you burned water, I still wouldn't want you to leave. I need you here."

"We all do. This place just wasn't a real home until you came."

"Oh, settle down. I'm not going anywhere. If for no other reason than it wouldn't be fair to poor Kyrano. You'd all ride roughshod over him."

I took a deep breath, letting the anxiety drain away. "I'm sorry, Grandma. I won't ask for bacon again."

"Bacon? There's bacon?" Virgil trudged into the room.

I winced, but Grandma just turned back to the stove. "No dear. Get your coffee, and I'll have some nice eggs for you in a jiffy.

Virgil got his coffee and sat down. After a few moments, he frowned. That cheered me right up. I could tell from the look on his face that he was trying to decide if the bacon had been a dream. I ate my eggs and hash browns, which were really good, by the way, and kept quiet as a mouse. I didn't want to risk any more of my grandma's wrath.

Dad apparently felt the same way, because he was quiet too. I was almost finished before Scott put in an appearance. I took one look and my heart just fell. He looked like John had that afternoon after he'd come back from the wedding.

I wasn't the only one to notice, of course. He'd barely cleared the doorway before Grandma was at his side.  
"Oh, sweetheart! Are you okay?"

Scott was as macho a guy as any I know, but for all of that, he was a sensible man. "I don't know. I think I might have caught whatever it is that John has."

"Well, sit down here, and let me get you something. Can you eat? Some eggs? Or maybe just toast?"

Scott glanced up at Grandma, and seemed to see the deep worry on her face for the first time. "Grandma, don't worry. It's not that bad. I'll have what everyone else is having. Just let me get my coffee."

"You sit right there. Are you sure you want coffee? Maybe tea would be better."

"Grandma, please, don't worry. I'm fine, really. I don't need tea." If I hadn't been worried about him, I would have grinned. Scott regarded tea like I did lamb shanks. He'd drink it if forced, but it wasn't anything he'd seek out.

Grandma put her hand on his forehead, then turned the movement in to a caress that was so familiar that I could practically feel it on my own cheek. "Well, you don't feel hot. All right, maybe you just need something in you."

She turned back to the stove, and Dad started in. "Son, I want you to go to Brains as soon as breakfast is over. We need to nip this in the bud before you infect your brothers."

There was a breathless moment as everyone froze, but Scott was not John. With a rueful smile, he said, "Yes, I agree. Maybe he can give me something that will keep me from going all psychotic."

Okay, now, how could I pass something like that up? "Too late."

Scott's eyes narrowed at my comment, and he said calmly, "Lean over here, let me breathe on you."

I put up my hands in surrender, leaning back in my chair. Dad sighed, "All right. Scott, once you've gotten with Brains, I'll want you to hit the sack. This is going to play havoc with both you and John sidelined. Gordon, it's time to put your training on Thunderbird Three to the test. I'm recalling your brother for the duration."

"Thanks, Grandma. Dad, I'm not that sick. It's more like a hangover than anything else. I don't need to go to bed."

"Son, your brother got sicker and sicker. I believe at least part of that was because he didn't take care of himself properly. I'm not going to let that happen to you."

Scott frowned. "At least let me go up and get Alan."

As much as I disliked flying that big ugly rocket on my own, I agreed with Dad. I needn't have worried, though. Dad was right there. "No, son. We've already discussed letting Gordon take the next run up to Five. This is the perfect opportunity."

This was news to me. I pushed down the slight resentment at them talking about me behind my back, and nodded. "Yeah, Scott. The perfect opportunity. Besides, you go, and Alan'll be sick before you get back."

"Scott, just let it go for a day," Virgil said softly.

Scott glanced over at my brother and finally relaxed. Some of the tension left his back and he said, "Okay, okay. But don't blame me if they decide to take Three off to the Bahamas or something."

That was my cue to bat my eyes and look innocent. My brothers and dad all rolled their eyes. Dad shifted, getting up. "Well, I'd better go let Alan know the news. Son, as soon as you're ready, I want you to go to Thunderbird Three. I want to walk through the pre-flight with you."

"Yes, sir." I turned back to Scott. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

Scott looked over at me, bleary-eyed. "As soon as the gorilla doing the rumba in my head stops, I'll be just fine. Be careful, kiddo."

Despite his assurance, I noticed he was just pushing the eggs around on his plate, not really eating. Virgil was awake by this time, and he gave me that look of his that said he'd take care of Scott for me, so I nodded and headed out.

I went to my bedroom, deciding that the shorts I was wearing weren't right for the job I was about to do. I put on some jeans, then decided on a pullover sweater. I don't know, I guess it was psychological, but Thunderbird Three always seemed cold to me. Or maybe it was the outer space part that did it.

Anyway, once I was dressed, I sat on my bed looking around for anything that I might be missing. After a few minutes, I acknowledged what I was doing for what it was. I was putting off the inevitable. Shaking my head at the foolishness of it, I got up and headed for the lounge.

Dad was at his desk, so I went right over and plopped down on the couch. My primary parental unit sat with a grin on his face. "You ready, son?"

"I'm always ready, Dad. Let 'er rip." I put on my best game face. I knew Dad saw this as an opportunity for me to find my true calling. He'd never quite believed that I didn't hanker for outer space like he did. Sometimes it was hard to be the only fish in a family of hawks. Especially because the hawks seemed to think I was a goldfish. They never quite got that I was a shark.

Anyway, as the couch sank into the floor, I held my nose with one hand and held the other up high like I was sinking for the last time. Dad grinned even wider. As soon as I was out of his sight, though, I lost the brave front.

It's not that I'm afraid of space, far from it. It was just that it was like the sky, only more so. I said the sky was empty? Well, space is even emptier. No life, no chance of life, just an endless black horizon punctuated by cold white lights. I mean, what was the point?

Of course, I couldn't tell Dad that. As the couch moved into the hangar, I looked up at Thunderbird Three. I looked up… and up… and up. That's another thing. Thunderbird Four was just the right size. Nice and cozy. My brothers' ships were all these gigantic compensations for personal physical failings. And what was with the red? Didn't the damn thing stand out enough without being the color of a clown's nose?

I sighed as the couch completed its journey, lifting me into the belly of the beast before locking down with a series of thumps. I got up and headed up ship in the elevator, coming out in the control room. Smelled funky in here.

I wrinkled my nose as I sat down and buckled up. Then unbuckled and got back up. I went over to a cabinet and opening it, reached in and pulled out a binder. Okay, so I hadn't kept up on the training the way I should have. What were the chances that I'd be needed to pilot Thunderbird Three? Yeah.

Well, if there was one thing that John was good at, it was writing out easy step by step instructions. And before you get all paranoid, let me point out that 90% of flying this bird was handled by the ship's computers. Personally, I was pretty convinced the damn thing didn't need a pilot at all for something as simple as flying to and from Thunderbird Five. Of course, voicing that heresy where my brothers or dad could hear would be a quick, but painful, suicide.

I did a quick read through, just to refresh my memory. That was all I really needed. Especially since my dad was going to give me a pop quiz. Comfortable that I could handle it, I opened up the comm system. "Thunderbird Three to base, I'm ready for pre-flight."

"All right son, by the numbers."

"Yes sir. Uh, exterior pump disconnect confirmed… Containment fields, green… Booster temperature within range… Life support systems online, and green… Communication system, uh, link with Thunderbird Five is ten by ten, antennas locked on… Onboard computers, green across the board… Navigational computer set and locked… Hangar door open… Onboard clock is running, flight recorder on and green… weapons systems charging, photon torpedoes at 80% and rising."

Dad chuckled. "I trust you're wearing your Buzz Lightyear underwear?"

"I never leave home without it. Thunderbird Five requests clearance." I was relieved that I'd passed the test. And once again I thanked my lucky starfish that we had a guy like Brains on our team. When we'd started International Rescue a few years ago, the preflight checklist for Thunderbird Five was ten times as long, with lots of easy to forget things like purging various pumps and stuff. It was Brains' evolving designs that made the preflight on TB3 actually easier than on our family jet.

"You are clear for flight, Thunderbird Five. Godspeed, son. I'll be right here if you need me."

"Thanks, Dad." I hit the switch and held on tight.

Even in the soundproofed control room, the rocket roar was deafening as Thunderbird Three gathered herself for flight. It always seemed to go on forever before the ship started to move, and this time was no different. I held my breath waiting for something to happen, flight or obliteration, one or the other.

Fortunately for me, it was flight, and the big rocket suddenly flung itself into the sky. My brothers actually enjoyed this, bragging about how many gees they could each pull. Personally, I preferred being able to breathe without feeling like there's a sperm whale sitting on my chest.

I gritted my teeth until the whale finally got bored and bailed out. I sat waiting for my stomach to catch up. It didn't look like it'd happen anytime soon. Oh well, I figured it would show up sooner or later. I checked the boards but, like I said, the computer was actually doing all of the work. I was looking at forty minutes of boredom before I made it up to Thunderbird Five.

Of course, I didn't have to stay bored… "Thunderbird Weenie to Thunderbird Five, come in, Alan."

"Gordy, you really shouldn't put yourself down like that. I mean, sure, you're a weenie, but admitting out loud like that just isn't professional."

"Well, if you're going to be like that, I'll just go to the Bahamas by myself."

That got him. "What? The Bahamas? What are you talking about?"

"Scott suggested that you and I go to the Bahamas, and Dad didn't disagree."

My brother's face fell. "You mean we're shutting down? We don't have to shut down. We can handle it without Scott and John. I mean, how many times do we ever need more than three people on a rescue anyway?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess the real issue is there's nobody to fly Thunderbird One with Scott out of commission."

Alan went very still. I tried to keep a blank face. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance of him blowing sky high, which would be entertaining to say the least. Unfortunately, although he turned bright red in anger, I could see the moment he caught on. His head jerked a bit, then his eyes narrowed as he looked at me. Suddenly, he reached forward and shut down the monitor.

Rats. He was checking with Dad. Ah well. His counter attack should be just as entertaining. He let me stew for a good twenty minutes before he called back. "Thunderbird Five to Thunderbird Three, Gordon, come in."

"Hey. Listen, I'll be on final approach in about ten minutes. Have you packed your toothbrush and jammies?"

"No. Gordon, I called down to base, and Dad and Virg are sick. Dad says you're to stay up here with me until they get a handle on whatever this is."

Oh, that was a good one. He had just the right amount of sincerity. But I wasn't born yesterday… "Oh God! You're kidding! Damn."

"Yeah. It won't be so bad. It's not like you'd be stuck here with John or something. We'll have a party, okay?"

"Well, no. The last place I can go is there. Al, I've been exposed. If I come up there, we could both get sick. No, I need to turn around. You'll be okay up here."

"Wait! You can't go back! Dad said!"

"Obviously he's not thinking straight. Don't worry, when I point it out to him, he'll understand. Now, I just need figure out how to get this monster on manual override. Listen, I'm going to have to really concentrate here, so I'm signing off."

I flipped the switch on his panicked protest. I sat back and looked over my control board. What I needed was something that would register on Five, but wouldn't actually affect the flight. I didn't want to actually switch to manual. I could handle it, but why do that, when doing something like activating the meteor detection and repeller module, which was the toggle right next to the manual override switch, would give Alan just that perfect sense of incompetence?

I flipped the toggle, waited a few moments, then flipped it off. Then flipped it on and off again. I startled a bit when an alarm went off, but it was just the autopilot alerting me to upcoming maneuvers. Even better. Just for effect, I flipped on all the exterior lights. Of course, the communicator light was flashing the whole time.

I opened up the line. "Hey Al, which one turns off the autopilot again?"

Instead of the panic I expected, my younger brother was laughing his head off. "Okay, okay, I give, I give! You win!"

I grinned at him. "Was there any doubt? I'm in final approach."

"Yeah, I'm ready for you. God, Gordy, the meteor detector?" Alan wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Is that what that was?" I asked innocently, sending my brother into another spasm of laughter.

"Man, I've been up here too long if that lame ass move could make me laugh like that."

"Yeah, there was a touch of hysteria there, kiddo."

"Hey, the whole idea of you flying up here alone is hilarious. I would have given good money to see the look on your face when Dad told you."

"I was stoic," I said deadpan, causing more laughter.

I couldn't help grinning. Alan's laughter was always infectious, and in truth, I didn't mind taking a hit to the ol' self esteem if it gave him something to laugh about. "Okay, coming up on docking, in three… two… one. I have latch on… and seal. Get over here and take this beast off my hands."

"On my way."

I released my harness and moved over to the communication console. By the time I'd re-buckled the harness, the hatch opened and my brother came striding in. He stopped dead a few steps in. "What the hell is that smell?"

I looked up at him. "You know, I thought it smelled funky in here, but I figured it was just something about outer space."

Alan rolled his eyes. "You're kidding, right?"

"Hey, it's not my 'bird, man. How should I know what it's supposed to smell like?"

"Well not like this!" Alan looked around the control room, then moved over to a cabinet, and pulled it open. A wave of odor wafted up. Alan waved his hand in front of his nose. "Crap. The recycler is busted. This garbage has been in here since John and I switched."

My eyes were watering. "Geez, Al, shut it. It stinks."

"Yeah." Alan shut the cabinet, which only was partially effective in removing the odor from the air. Shaking his head, he came over and slipped into his chair. "Bringing air recycling up to full. That should help until we get home."

"Aw, no Bahamas?"

Alan expertly undocked and moved Thunderbird Three to the correct path for re-entry, all the while shaking his head, asking, "What is it with you and the Bahamas?"

"Didn't Dad tell you?"

"I didn't ask."

"Sick as he was, Scott still wanted to come up and get you. Dad told him no, and he said not to blame him if you and I took Thunderbird Three off to the Bahamas. I thought it sounded like a good idea."

Alan wrinkled his nose. "Too many people. The whole place is nothing but a tourist trap."

I couldn't help but remember a certain time on leave. "I don't mind being trapped."

"Yeah, well, if a sea rescue comes in while we're away, Virgil will be handling Thunderbird Four."

"Oooo, a low blow! Oh, okay. Home, Jeeves."

Alan snorted and shook his head. Unlike me, he didn't trust the autopilot, and he had to concentrate on the flight. I sat back and relaxed. Alan noticed, and frowned. "Make yourself useful. Call base and let them know we're on our way."

"Okay," I responded mildly. I reached up and hit a switch. "Thunderbird Three to base. Dad, we've left Thunderbird Five and we're on our way home."

"Very good. You didn't have any trouble docking?" Dad asked, trying to hide his relief.

"No, none at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure I did it better than either John or Alan could have."

The indignant denial next to me was worth seeing my dad relax. "Well, that's nice, son. We'll see you shortly."

Dad signed off, and I turned to my seething sib. "Gimme a break, Al. I only said that to let Dad know everything's okay. He's been under pressure lately."

Alan let out a breath, but nodded. "Yeah, okay. But when was Dad ever not under pressure?"

"Yeah, but with mini-Dad under the weather, he's feeling the pressure more than usual."

"About that. What do you think it is? Is it the same thing John has?"

"I don't think there's much doubt about that. John was fine, then he took a nap, and woke up sick as a dog. Same thing with Scott. When I saw him walk in this morning, he looked just like John did the other day."

"So, did he give you a killer look?" Alan asked, casually, his eyes on his board.

I could have done without that reminder. I snapped a bit harshly. "No. Why would he?"

"Easy. It was just a question."

I deflated like a puffer fish with a hole in its belly. "Yeah. Sorry. No, Scott seemed fine. He was going to get with Brains after breakfast, see if this is something more than the flu."

"And John just stayed on the mainland." It wasn't a question, but I could hear the confusion in my brother's voice.

"Scott says the woman John found is taking care of him. He seemed to think this woman was really something special. He pretty much described her like a cross between a movie star, a nuclear physicist and a saint. He actually said if she hadn't been into John he'd have made a play for her."

"Is it just me, or does there seem to be something wrong with this picture?"

"Naw. I mean, before Scott got home yesterday, I was feeling a tad paranoid, you know? But Scott was comfortable with the situation, so who am I to worry?"

"I don't know, Gordy, I just feel like the sky's going to fall in on us."

"Well if it does, we'll get us an umbrella, okay? I'm not going to worry about it."

My brother let out a breath, nodding his head. "Yeah, okay. So, what do you say to some diving off the point?"

"Sure. We can fit it in between greasing the pod conveyor tracks and fixing the damn recycler."

Alan sighed, apparently just now realizing just how much work we had ahead of us. He turned back to his controls, and I settled in, knowing this was probably the closest thing to fun he was going to have for some time to come.


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of the dinner bell pulled my head out of the maintenance hatch on the Firefly. I checked my watch, a bit surprised at how fast the day had gone. Al and I had gotten back from Thunderbird Five several hours ago, and since then, I'd been stuck down in the bowels of Thunderbird Two's pod five, working on a recalcitrant track assembly. I stared down at my work. I was almost done, and I really hated to leave it, but if I didn't show up at the dinner table, I'd be in for it.

Oh well, it would still be here after dinner. I headed over to the wash station to clean up, then headed up to the house. I liked working on mechanical things like the Firefly. My brothers and I had all cut our teeth on farm equipment, and there really wasn't anything quite like the satisfaction of identifying and repairing a big piece of machinery. Especially when it wasn't really expected of you.

Sometimes my brothers underestimated my abilities. I think it had to do with the fact that I was… different. They saw me as, I dunno, some kind of ecologist or something. I admit, I did have a bent for living things, but that didn't mean I couldn't get as down and dirty as the rest of them.

I mean, I'm no engineer like Scott or Virg, or a mechanical genius like Al or Dad, but I could hold my own in the repair shop. And what made me think of that? I shook my head at the thoughts and by the time I hit the dining room, I was ready to eat.

I walked in, then came to stop. Everybody was at the table as usual, except for Scott who was probably still asleep in his bed. It was a very mundane scene, but Virgil had this look on his face, and my stomach just dropped.

My mouth was dry as dust, but with feigned casualness, I asked, "Hey, Virg, why so gloomy? The piano bite you?"

He looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Did you get the Firefly squared away?"

"Almost. I still have to align the secondary track."

"Do you need help with that, son?" My dad looked over at me.

"Nope. Scott still sick?"

"Yes. Brains is looking into it." Dad said quietly, his concern obvious in his tone.

I couldn't help but notice that Virgil had shifted in his seat, looking only at his plate. Something was definitely up, and I was going to get to the bottom of it, but not in front of Dad and Grandma. "Chili? Great! Al, pass the bread, please."

Alan handed over the bread basket. Grandma's chili was the best in the world as far as I was concerned. It had just enough of a bite. I took a chunk of the crusty bread that she always served with the chili and slathered it with butter. Unlike Virgil and Dad, I didn't need any extra cheese or onions. The chili was just that good on its own.

We ate dinner, talking about this and that. I noticed that Virgil worked hard to keep up his end of the conversation, but by the time Kyrano brought in the homemade ice cream for dessert, he had fallen silent, and he was getting glances from everyone at the table.

"Son? Something on your mind?"

Virgil started, a bit guiltily. "Uh, no, nothing Dad. I guess I'm just a bit tired."

Dad nodded his head. "I can understand that. Boys, with your brothers sidelined, you're all going to have to watch yourselves. No late nights, no taking any chances. As I'm sure you all appreciate, if you three get sick, we'll have to suspend operations entirely, and that could have serious consequences. Understood?"

I joined my brothers in somber agreement. The last thing I'd want is for some poor soul to die because I was playing video games after midnight, and was too tired to do the job right.

Dinner ended, and Al and I started clearing the table. It wasn't required. If we just walked away, Kyrano would do it, but the habit had been ingrained in us since we were kids, and it was just a good time to talk to my brother.

We carried the bowls and platters into the empty kitchen. We'd barely cleared the door before Al said, "What's up with Virg? Did you see that look on his face when Dad asked him if there was anything on his mind?"

"Yeah. As soon as we're done here, I'm going to track him down and find out."

Alan stood stock still. "Um, you are?"

I looked over at my brother. It was pretty apparent that he didn't really see anything to worry about and had just been making conversation. But that look on Virgil's face when I first entered the dining room had really hit me pretty hard. I was pretty sure it was the same look I had on my face when John had first snapped at me. I wanted to make sure Virgil hadn't had a similar experience with Scott.

Still, no need to alarm Alan if it wasn't necessary… "Yup. I'm gonna make sure he's feeling okay. Last thing we need is for him to keel over on a rescue."

"You want me to come with you?"

"No. He'll just clam up if he thinks we're ganging up on him."

"Yeah, okay. Well, I'll see you later, then."

"Yeah, sure."

Alan hung up the dish towel he'd been holding and headed out the door. I closed the door on the dishwasher, and set it to work, then went out to track down my brother.

I figured the first place to check was Scott's room, so I headed for the bedroom wing of the house. When I got there, I found the do not disturb light on by the door control. I considered overriding the door, just to check on my brother. But knowing if I woke him, he'd be, uh, cranky, I decided to give it a pass.

The door to Virgil's room had no such restriction, so with a short knock, I opened it. "Hey, Virg?"

No sign of him. Well, despite saying he was tired, it was still pretty early, so I headed over to the lounge to see if he was there at the piano. I didn't have to enter the room to know he wasn't there. The big baby grand was untouched. Still, I walked through and out onto the balcony.

This particular balcony had a panoramic view of gardens and pool area and you could also see a good part of the beach. I paused for a moment to breathe in the salt air, and watch the sunset. There were a few clouds that the sun was painting all gold and pink, and the sky was that really pretty shade of red into blue into purple. I really loved sunsets here.

Apparently so did Virgil. I spotted my brother down on the beach staring off over the water. I took a moment to grab a couple of beers from the refrigerator, then I headed out. When I came out of Grandma's flower garden onto the sand, I found Virgil still sitting there.

I made my way over to him, clinking the bottles as I walked to keep from startling him. I could have snuck up on him, of course, but it seemed like a bad idea when I just wanted to talk to him. I got to where he was sitting in the sand, and plopped my butt down and offered him one of the bottles.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome."

Together we sat in silence watching as the last bit of color left the sky and the stars came out. "I can never quite paint a sunset like that without it looking fake," Virgil said in a tone of regret.

I nodded. "I guess some things are just better left in the moment."

"Yeah."

I waited to see if he'd say anything else. I didn't want to push. I figured if there was anything really wrong, he'd say it. After a few minutes, he finished his beer, and suddenly stood up, brushing off the sand. "Well, I guess I'll head up to the house. Are you going to finish up on the Firefly tonight, or tomorrow?"

So much for that. "I was going to do it after dinner, but with what Dad said about not pushing too hard, I think I'll wait. I was practically done. It'll only take an hour or so in the morning."

"And you're sure you don't need any help with it?"

You know, you can get tired of that question. "Well, I don't know. The LX6 sections keep wanting to curl up at the edges. But I've hammered most of them down. If you feel like hammering, you could give me a hand."

For a guy who prided himself on his stoic manner, it sure didn't take much to get him going. All you had to do was say you'd put the track sections on upside down then wrecked them with a hammer. His jaw dropped, and this look of horror came over him. "Gordon… they're supposed to curl downward. You put them on with the double hatch marking up, didn't you?"

"Double hatch marking? I didn't see any hatch marking."

He was breathing hard now. "How many sections?"

"Huh?"

"How many sections did you hammer?"

"Well, I got all but two put on, so that's what? Twenty-eight?"

He slapped his forehead. "Oh, God, that's practically our whole stock! It'll take a month to get replacements."

The next part was tricky. I casually got up off the sand, putting distance between myself and my brother. Hopefully, it looked accidental. "Of course, on the other hand, if you actually trusted me, you'd realize that I know what I'm doing, Virgil."

Wow. I didn't really mean it to sound so bitter. Virgil started, looking me in the eye. I was ready to run if he decided to thump on me. He surprised me by slowly smiling. "It was a joke?" He shook his head. "Oh, geez, I should have realized. Not really funny, Gordy. And believe it or not, I do trust you. Things are just so screwed right now, I didn't think. Sorry."

"What's so screwed, Virg?" I asked. I really wanted to know. I mean, sure, we were shorthanded, but we'd been shorthanded before. And with TB5 switched over to automatic, it was really as if we were only short one man. It really wasn't all that different than if one of us took a short vacation.

"Well, if you didn't mess up the Firefly's tracks, I guess we aren't really that screwed," Virgil said quietly. But I noticed he wasn't looking me in the eye.

"Virgil, tell me what's going on. Just tell me."

My brother turned to me and looked me square in the eye. "Nothing I can't handle," he said firmly.

"Look…" We both suddenly started. The klaxon alerting us to a rescue was ringing. We both broke into a run for the house. That's one of the problems with a job like ours. Interruptions could come at any time, and it usually was when I needed it the least. Well, I could try again as we flew to wherever it was we were needed.


	12. Chapter 12

We entered the lounge and Dad looked up, a glint in his eye that immediately set my stomach roiling. "Boys, we have a dam on the verge of collapse."

As he spoke, Alan appeared, hustling in from wherever he'd been. "A dam? Where?"

Dad slowly shook his head, a clear indication of his misgivings. "North Korea. The Sup'ong Dam on the Yalu."

My mouth went dry. North Korea was one of the few remaining supposedly communist states. In truth, it was a dictatorship, with a real nut job, Kim Jong Un, at the helm. I tried to remember where the Yalu was. I had a vague impression that it was near the border with China. Yet another fun country.

Virgil grunted in surprise. "The Koreans are actually asking for help? That's a new one."

I nodded in agreement. Kim was a borderline personality, something he'd picked up from his father, Kim Jong Il, the previous dictator. Anything going on in North Korea had to have his personal approval, or it just didn't happen. And there'd been rumors of an assassination attempt a few months back that made the guy even more paranoid than ever.

"No," Dad said very softly. "They aren't asking for help, the Chinese are. This dam is right over the border, and if it goes, it's not only the Koreans who'll suffer. The Chinese want us to go in and do a patch like we did on the Roodepoort."

I was sharing frowns with both of my brothers. Two years ago, we'd flown to South Africa to patch a dam damaged by a storm. One of Brains' wonder sealants had done the job, giving the locals the time they needed to do a more permanent repair. It had been one of those spectacular successes for us, where we'd saved a lot of lives with very little actual expenditure of energy.

But in South Africa, we had the full cooperation of the government at all levels from the local beat cop right on up to the President. "So, do the North Koreans know we are coming?"

"Kim told the Chinese he'd shoot down any attempt to invade his air space. The Chinese say they will protect us."

"Whoa." Alan put up his hands, his eyes wary. "Dad, Kim Jong Un is a maniac. If we go in, and the Chinese do actually protect us, he's likely to lob a nuclear weapon at Beijing. We could get caught up in a war."

"Yes, I know." Dad scrubbed his face with his hand. "Here's the thing, boys, Kim has refused to accept that there is anything wrong with that dam. The Chinese say it is within days of failing, and the Koreans aren't even trying to evacuate. There's an estimated 400,000 in the area. If that dam goes, the death toll could be in the thousands. Now, we have the means to prevent that. The question is do we have the will?"

Dad looked us each in the eye. I found myself straightening in response to the challenge. Still, my mouth was too dry to answer him. Virgil spoke for us all. "Well, if we're going, let's go."

Alan and I both nodded, and without waiting for Dad's official blessing, headed for our ships. As Alan reached up to trigger the sconces that would twirl him into Thunderbird One's hangar, I gave him a smile of encouragement. He didn't even notice, he was so focused. I swallowed against my dry throat and continued to my lame-ass elevator.

Arriving in Thunderbird Two's hangar, I headed over to the pods. The sealant in question, RXDS, was in a huge tank that needed to be loaded onto pod 3. That involved opening up the pod, and removing half of the equipment already stored there. It sounds a lot harder than it really is. Brains has this army of robots that does the actual work. My job was to push the right buttons, and keep an eye open for problems.

I hadn't even gotten the fire retardant tanks off loaded before I heard the rumble of Thunderbird One taking off. The robots doing the unloading and loading were actually pretty fast, but when you're waiting to get going it seems to take forever. As I waited, I reflected on the fact that if Johnny had been up in TB5, he'd have alerted us to the possible problem hours before the call out, and we would have already had the pod loaded and ready to go.

Finally, I was sealing up the pod. Even before the ramp had shut, the conveyor belt had started moving it into position to be mated with Thunderbird Two, a sure sign that Virgil had been watching the entire operation from TB2's cockpit. Feeling his eyes upon me, I hustled double time to get onboard. As soon as the big green bug settled over the pod, I was in the forward hatch, and heading for the cockpit.

Virgil didn't wait for me, sending Thunderbird 2 rumbling forward to her launch point. I stopped by the personal lockers to do a quick change into my uniform, and slid into my seat by Virgil just as the launch ramp started to raise Two into position. He barely spared me a glance as he got clearance for launch from our father.

I settled in, buckling the safety harness, thinking about the rescue ahead. I had a lot of faith in Alan, but I found I was hoping Scott would be on hand, sick or not, to give us some guidance. North Korea had been a pariah state for longer than I'd been alive. Doing a rescue there was going to be as tricky as it got, and while Alan was smart as a whip, Scott had that military background that had pulled our tails out of the fire more often than I cared to remember.

I scratched my head and asked, "So, do you think we can do this without causing World War Three?"

Virgil frowned, never taking his eyes from his instruments. "I'd like to think that Kim will see the light, and back down before we get there."

"Yeah, like he did with that cruise liner." Several years ago, a Japanese cruise liner with 1200 people aboard had the bad luck to be blown off course in a storm, and landed up in North Korean waters. Kim had gone ballistic accusing the Japanese of everything from spying to smuggling biological weapons. It hadn't been pretty, and would have been tragic, if not for the intervention of WASP.

Virgil smiled grimly. "Well, I guess we'll find out in about seventeen minutes."

I felt my stomach tighten at that. At the speed Two could fly, Korea was just a short jaunt. Well, at least I didn't have time to fret.

"Base to Thunderbird Two, I have your co-ordinate feed."

"Thanks, Dad. I've got it. How's the weather?"

"You're clear all the way up. Some high clouds over the Japanese mainland, but nothing worth worrying about."

"FAB. Thunderbird Two, out."

"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. Virgil, what's your E.T.A?" Alan's voice came through the speaker, just as calm and confident as Scott at his best.

"Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One, I'll be in the danger zone in 15.9 minutes."

"Okay, Virgil, um, you're coming up through Shanghai, right?"

"No. I'm flying over Osaka, coming in from the north."

"Yeah, that's the co-ordinate feed I got, too. But I think we should change course, and come in from the west."

I nodded even as Alan was speaking. All Kim needed was to see us coming from Japan, and he'd shoot us down before we made land fall. Virgil, on the other hand was shaking his head. "Alan, that route would add another 10 minutes onto the flight, and who says the Chinese will even let us do it?"

"It'd be pretty stupid of them not to, Virg. They asked for us, remember?" I reminded my brother quietly.

Virgil gave me a wry look. "When has that ever stopped the Chinese from being idiots?"

I had to acknowledge that one. China was one of the largest countries in land mass on the planet. Over flying their territory on the way to a lot of countries would save us precious time, but more often than not, they refused us the passage way, citing national security considerations. Most times, John didn't even ask, preferring to work out polar routes that added some time but were infinitely safer.

"Well, I'm going to ask Dad, anyway," Alan said calmly. "Thunderbird One, out."

Virgil settled deeper into his seat with a sigh. I figured now was as good a time as any to figure out what was bothering him. "So, what's up, Virg? You're like a clown fish that's lost its anemone."

I liked using those kind of fishy metaphors. Mainly because my brothers never could quite tell if they really made sense. Virgil frowned, picking up on the one word he could take offense at. "You calling me a clown?"

Oh, there were so many responses I could make to that. But I wanted him to talk so I settled for earnest. "No, Virgil. I'm asking you what is bothering you. And don't clam up on me. I know something's wrong. You never know, maybe I can help."

Virgil started to shake his head, then straightened, as our father rudely interrupted. "Base to Thunderbird Two. I'm sending a course correction."

My brother glanced at the coordinates coming in, nodding. "The Chinese are okay with this, Dad?"

"Yes, surprisingly so. If anything, it highlights their concerns regarding the dam. You boys be careful."

"FAB." Virgil shut down the connection, then immediately opened another. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One. Come in, Alan."

"Thunderbird One. You have a new E.T.A. for me, Virg?"

"Yes, you got your way. I'll be onsite in twenty-two point nine minutes."

"Uh, actually, it'll probably be longer than that. The Chinese are providing escorts."

"Escorts? Did anyone tell them that would slow us down?" Virgil said with resignation. I heaved a mental sigh myself. Even supersonic jets were slow compared to Thunderbirds One and Two.

"Nope. I told them fine." Alan smirked. "I told them if they could keep up with us, they could escort us."

I grinned. "I bet that went over well."

"Who knows? I had a problem with my transmission right after that."

Virgil frowned. "Alan…"

"Oh, don't worry. They're so cute when they try to play with the big boys. I'll slow down a bit for them."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Just be careful. Remember, I can't dodge missiles as well as Thunderbird One can."

Alan rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother."

I snorted a laugh. Virgil gave me the eye, saying, "It's a long walk home."

"That's okay, Gordy. You can ride with me in the grownup's ship," Alan responded sweetly.

It was fine for him, he wasn't sitting next to Mount St. Virgil. I maintained a carefully neutral look. It'd be just like Al to twist Virgil up, knowing I'd catch the fall out. I couldn't complain, it was a tactic I'd used myself on occasion, but I had the sense to wait until after the rescue.

As if he had the same thought, Al casually backed down. "Just kidding. I'm coming up on the coastline. I'll talk to you once I'm at the danger zone. Thunderbird One out."

I sat quietly next to my brother for a few moments trying to gauge if Alan's remarks had hit home. It was hard to tell. Virgil seemed preoccupied, but he could take me down in a flat second if he thought I had disparaged his ship.

Just when I thought he might be okay, he glanced over at me with a frown. "What are you still doing here? Get down to the pod and set up the spray guns."

You know, I never really took well to being ordered about like a servant. I was as important to the team as Virgil was, and I'd be damned if I'd let him treat me that way. I sat still in my seat, glaring, letting him think about how he'd acted.

Virgil was actually a pretty reasonable guy, and even-tempered under most circumstances. If fact, I was a bit surprised at the outburst. Apparently, so was he. After a moment, he kind of shook himself. "Sorry."

That was all I wanted, so I popped up from my seat with a grin, and headed for the pod. "That's okay. I'm worried about Scotty, too."

If he had any response to that, I didn't hear it. I was already out the door. Once I'd gotten into the pod, I headed to a side compartment that was built right into the sealant tank. Keying it open, I got the robotic loader to shift the heavy double-barreled spray gun over to the side of the ship, where a sliding door would open a port big enough for the gun to fit through.

Gun wasn't really the right word for the monster I was shifting.. More like a double-barreled cannon. It came complete with a pivoting operator's seat that always reminded me of the gunner's seat on the Millennium Falcon. I was Luke Skywalker. Only a lot better. I didn't miss what I aimed at.

Once I had the gun set up and locked down, I got the hoses connected. Maybe I wasn't Luke Skywalker. Maybe I was more like the engineer on a fire truck. The cannons were designed after the water cannons that fire departments around the world used, after all.

I checked my connections and brought the pressure up to maximum. No leaks, no problems. Actually, I didn't have to be anyone else. I was pretty damn good just as myself. International Rescue Hero. Yeah, right. Sitting in a seat and spraying a dam with crazy glue isn't exactly what I'd call heroic. Oh well, you take the boring with the exciting.

I hit the intercom. "Virg, I'm all set here. We there yet?"

"Standby."

Okay, then. Maybe he wasn't that even-tempered after all. I sat in my seat, double-checking my controls, standing by. After a few minutes, Virgil called in. "Gordon, we've got a problem."

My blood chilled at the tone in his voice. "What kind of problem, Virgil?"

"I'm sending you the visual on the dam."

With my stomach clenching, I brought up a display screen. We were still pretty high, so the entire dam was visible. At first, I couldn't see what the problem was. It was just a standard concrete dam, maybe two hundred feet high, twice that wide. From this height, I couldn't see the cracks, but there were these odd little dark blobs all along the top.

"What am I looking for, Virg?"

"See those people on the top of the dam? They're all school kids. Kim's forced them all out there to stop us from doing our job."

"Kids? He's using kids?" I was shocked to my ever-loving core. Kim was a nut job, I knew, but to risk the lives of children? That takes a whole new depth of sliminess.

"Yeah. He doesn't dare oppose the Chinese outright, but he apparently is telling them that this is a scheduled learning opportunity, and he as no control over it." Virgil sounded as disgusted as I felt. "The question is, how good are you?"

I couldn't answer, my mouth was so dry. Virgil continued as if I had. "Brains says we can spray within fifteen feet of the top of the dam, and the sealant will still work. But you know, if you hit any of those kids, the pressure will knock them right off the top of the dam, and probably kill them. It's up to you. If you think you can do this without endangering the kids, then we're a go. If not, Dad says we come home."

It took me a few moments to get enough spit in my mouth to swallow, but I knew it was time to put up or shut up. If I chickened out, no one would say anything to me. I knew that. But I also knew if I backed down, and that dam let loose, every life that was lost would be against me.

I sucked in a breath. "Get us down there, Virg. I have to see it better to decide."

Thunderbird Two obediently complied, dropping quickly until she floated level with the top of the dam on the downstream side. It was too close for my taste. The little dark blobs had resolved themselves into hundreds of little kids. We were close enough to see that they were terrified, clinging to one another, and crying. Armed soldiers at either end of the causeway were the only thing keeping the children from bolting.

God, what I would do for two minutes alone with that wacko in Pyongyang. I saw Thunderbird One floating about 100 yards upstream from the dam, and wondered what my brother was thinking about all this. I know it was disloyal, but I was really wishing Scott was here. He'd think of a way to make this work.

"Thunderbird One to Gordon. So, you think you can do this?"

I looked at the dam, and considered. "Yeah, Al, I can do it, but I can't help but think those kids are going to really panic as soon as I fire. They run the wrong way and they'll end up in the water, or worse."

"I was thinking that too. Okay, here's the plan. Hang on, and I'll go land on the dam. If the kids see that I'm not afraid, they might be able to stand it."

"How are you going to land on that dam? It's wall-to-wall kids."

"Well, they're just going to have to make room."

"What about the soldiers? They might think you'd make a good trophy."

"Yeah, it's not risk-free, but it's the best I can come up with. You got something better?"

When I thought about it, I realized that this was probably exactly the kind of plan Scott would come up with. "Okay, it sounds good. But if any of those soldiers take a potshot, let me know, and I'll spray 'em."

Alan chuckled. "You're so easy. I hope convincing Dad and Virgil will be as simple."

"Scott will see reason, and he'll convince them."

"Scott? Who's that? He hasn't put in an appearance as far as I can tell. I'm going to call Dad and let him know the plan. Thunderbird One out."

Okay, now, that was just disturbing. I had assumed Scott was in the lounge kibitzing on the rescue. The fact that he wasn't told me more than any doctor's report exactly how sick my brother was. I realized that was why Virgil was so preoccupied.

Well, I couldn't afford the distraction. I tried to put it out of my mind, as I re-checked my instruments once again. I examined the dam, calculating the best approach. I wanted to do the top first, get it over with for the sake of all those frightened kids. I spent most of my waiting time calculating how to keep the pressure down to lessen the risk of the sealant spreading upward.

I had my plan set when Virgil opened up the intercom. "Gordon? Alan is going to land on the dam to help calm the kids. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure if you are. A lot of this is going to depend on you putting Two where I need her and keeping her steady."

"You say the word, and I'll park this girl wherever you want."

"Hey, how is Alan going to keep the kids from panicking when he lands?" The thought occurred, and I couldn't help but tighten up thinking about it.

"Just watch."

And so I did. Thunderbird One left her position, and rose straight up in the air. I watched as she climbed to about 200 feet above the dam. Hovering, she started broadcasting something in Korean. The broadcast was also coming from the speakers on Thunderbird Two, and was loud enough that I could feel it as a vibration in the floor plates. I watched the kids. They were all looking straight up.

The broadcast took on a different tone, and Thunderbird One started slowly dropping down toward the dam. Whatever was being said was effective, because the kids started moving back, without any signs of panic.

I nodded in satisfaction as I noticed that Alan was using One's impellers rather than her more effective, but frightening rocket engines. The effect was of a leaf gently falling to the ground, and soon, One was resting on the dam, a circle of curious children, watching the ship for what would happen next.

I love kids. They're so resilient. Five minutes earlier, they had all been terrified out of their minds, but now, they were actually pressing forward to get a better look at Thunderbird One. After a moment, the lower hatch of the ship dropped open, causing the closest kids to step back in trepidation. I watched as my brother dropped to the ground, and moved out from under the ship.

Like kids everywhere, these kids weren't sure whether to embrace him or be wary. Alan used that to his advantage, moving forward toward the downstream edge of the dam. I saw him lift his communicator, then heard his voice. "Okay, Thunderbird Two, you're clear to proceed."

I heard Virgil respond for us both. "FAB."

I primed my cannons, and spoke to Virgil. "Bring her to forty feet from the left edge, level with the top of the dam. We'll do a slow pass across the face of the dam."

"FAB."

And as simple as that, we started. I first aimed my cannons significantly lower than the fifteen foot upper limit that Brains had suggested. As the spray went out, I was kept busy adjusting the pressure and directing Virgil. I didn't have any time to worry about Scott, or the kids, or anything else for that matter.

I kept at it, sweeping the entire face of the dam with the super sealant. It had this nice orangey tinge that made it easy to see where it had hit. In what felt like no time at all, I had the job done. When I finally shut the sprayer down, the stiffness in my back told me that it had actually been a long job. I checked my chronometer, and saw that over four hours had passed. "Hey, Virg, I'm done. You ready to go home?"

"Past ready. Good job, Squirt."

I looked up at the top of the dam. At this point, we were so far down the face, that I couldn't see what was happening up on the top. As if he'd heard my thought, Virgil sent Thunderbird Two in a gentle spiraling climb.

When we came level with the causeway on the top, I was surprised to see the difference in the kids. They were all jumping up and down, waving and clapping. Apparently, Alan had convinced them that we were the good guys. Interestingly, the soldiers had all shouldered their weapons and were clapping just as enthusiastically as the children. With the gun port open, I waved at the kids, and was gratified to see them respond.

Alan lifted his communicator. "Hey, you guys, good job. Head for home and I'll join you in a few minutes."

Virgil cut in, "Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe we should standby until you are in the air."

"No, you go ahead. I don't think anybody here is going to interfere with me. But make sure you clear North Korean airspace right away. I think that's where the real danger is, if there's any."

I couldn't disagree with him on that one. I waited to hear what Virgil would say. He was probably weighing the good sense that Alan was using against his need to be the big brother. Fortunately, sense won out, and his only response was "FAB."

Tired as I was, I still set about shutting down the sealant system. The only heavy work was disconnecting the hoses, and once that was down, it was merely a matter of letting the robots do their job. Still it was a good fifteen minutes before I made my weary way to the crew quarters, and a change back into civvies.

By the time I'd done that, I could tell by the change in tone that Virgil was coming up on landing back at the island. I hustled double time up to the cockpit. There was nothing that set Virgil off faster than not knowing where I was when he was landing.

I'd barely gotten my butt in my seat before the big bird touched down. I was a bit surprised at that, but then when I thought about Scott's absence during the rescue, I realized Virg was in a big hurry to get home.


	13. Chapter 13

As we rumbled up the tarmac to the hangar, Virgil looked over at me and said, "That was a superior job you did, kid."

I fluttered my eyelashes. "Why thank you! It means ever so much coming from you. No really."

Virgil snorted, shaking his head in pretended disgust. I just grinned. Virgil parked Two over the conveyor belt, and triggered the lift, raising us up on stilts so that the pod could be deposited on the conveyor. I unbuckled my safety harness and stood up stretching. "I'm thinking a nice long swim is just what I need."

Virgil glanced over at me as he hit the final shutdown sequence. "You deserve it. Me, I'm thinking alcohol, and plenty of it."

I laughed at that. Virgil's idea of plenty of alcohol was a whisky neat, instead of with ice to water it down. Still, to each his own. Together, we took the catwalk that extended from the cockpit hatch to the balcony that surrounded the hangar. We only used it when Two was up on her stilts, but more and more that seemed to be every rescue.

Alan stood at the far end of the catwalk, jittering in place. As soon as we approached, he said, "Dad wants us all in the lounge right away."

Well, so much for my swim. I guess something showed on my face, because Alan punched me in the arm. "What are you worried about? You did almost as good a job as I would have done. You're the employee of the day."

I snorted. "I'm the employee of the decade, if we're comparing me to you."

We loaded onto the elevator that would take us up to the house. I waited for Al's response. He sniffed, "We let you think that. It's easier than buying little plastic trophies for you all the time."

The elevator door sprang open, and I strode out into the lounge. "Dad, I think Alan's been sniffing glue again, he's hallucin…"

I stopped dead at the look on my father's face. I hadn't seen that look since I wrecked his Lexus for the third time. Amazing how one look could make me want to curl up and die.

"Boys, come in here and sit." It was a command that none of us were able to ignore. I headed for the couch, Virgil right behind me. Al took a chair. Apparently he assumed we were the culprits and wanted to distance himself from us.

For my part, I was racking my brain for something that I could have done to get my dad this flat-out angry. As I sat, I spotted Brains lurking in the doorway, white-faced.

Dad was never much of one for small talk, and as soon as our butts hit, he looked at Virgil and grated out, "Son, where is your brother?"

Whoa. I think my jaw just about dropped to the floor. You gotta understand… Dad never, ever got mad at Virgil. Ever. And for him to be mad because of something Scott had done was, um, unprecedented. A glance at Al showed he was just as shocked as I was.

We both turned to stare at Virgil, who looked like his best friend had just betrayed him, which I figured wasn't that far from the truth. He kept his eyes down, practically whispering, "I promised him I wouldn't say."

Oh man, I could have told him that was the absolute wrong answer. I found myself scooting down the couch to keep from being leveled by the blast I knew was coming. To my surprise, Dad instead called out, "Brains, get over here."

The thing about Brains is, he's really great under pressure, so where I might have expected him to fall apart at the tone of Dad's voice, instead he stiffened his spine and put his chin up and marched over. Dad didn't even notice. "Tell him."

Did you ever have that sinking feeling in your stomach? You know the one where you just know if you look up, you'll see an anvil falling right for your head? My stomach went down like the Titanic. I knew before Brains opened his mouth that it was going to be bad, really bad.

Brains swallowed once, and started in full lecture mode. "I, uh, took a sample of Scott's blood when he said he was, uh, sick. The results were so, uh, odd, that I re-ran the tests two more times to be sure of my information."

Okay, this was worse than I thought. Was it something terminal? Was that why Dad looked so fierce? If I looked scared, I think that was nothing to the terror that surfaced on Virgil's face. He was literally on the edge of the couch, looking like he'd jump up and shake Brains if he didn't explain faster.

Brains is no idiot, and he saw that look too. "Scott's blood has a high level of androgens. Testosterone, dihydrotestosterone and androstenedione are all far above normal. There is also evidence of a substance that I have yet to identify, but that appears to have hallucinogenic properties."

Alan blinked. "In English, please?"

While Brains is always totally comfortable in science-speak, he's less so in layman's terms. He fiddled with his glasses, and his cheeks turned red, but when he spoke, it was with typical directness. "Yes. Uh, it's as if Scott's sex drive has been uh, ratcheted up."

Alan blinked again. "Okay. Well, that doesn't sound so bad…"

I snorted. I'd been bar-hopping with my big brother on a couple of occasions, and I knew for a fact that he had a totally healthy libido. Brains, though, was shaking his head. "No, uh, Alan, it is that bad. Hormones at these levels can be deadly. It places a tremendous strain on the uh, heart and lungs."

"What kind of hallucinogen?" Virgil interrupted, frowning.

Brains shook his head. "It is hard to, uh, say, Virgil. It is definitely linked to the increase in the hormones."

"The bottom line here is that Scott isn't thinking straight. I ask you again. Virgil, where is your brother?"

I found that I was breathing hard. More than anger, nothing twisted me up quicker than the sound of fear in my father's voice. Virgil was made of sterner stuff, though, and he sat, considering his answer. I knew better than to push him. Virg could put a Missouri mule to shame when it came to stubbornness.

Alan, on the other hand, wasn't the most patient guy in the room. He jumped out of his chair, and headed for the door. "I'll find him, Dad. I'll track his wrist comm."

"Alan." Dad barked it, and my brother stopped dead in his tracks. Dad's attention never wavered from Virgil, though, and I could see my big brother start to squirm.

Finally, he came to his decision. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dad. He made me promise. I knew something was wrong, but I just figured he'd come to his senses. He went over to the mainland. He was going to hook up with John and that woman."

Wow. I mean, WOW. My brother, the poster boy for responsibility? Clearly, he could not be thinking straight.

Virgil shook his head. "He said he couldn't stop thinking about her. He said she was the perfect woman, and he had to see her again."

"Wait, I thought this was Johnny's girl. Are you telling me he was going to beat Johnny's time?" Yet another shocker. I didn't know how many more surprises I could take.

Virgil ducked his head, more embarrassed than anything else. "I asked him that, but he wouldn't give me a straight answer. He was kind of manic about it, but I thought… I thought he'd realize it was wrong, and come back on his own."

"I believe that, uh, based on both John and Scott's reactions, and the uh, unidentified substance in Scott's blood work, that they have both been uh, compromised. This woman appears to have drugged them both. The uh, flu-like symptoms are possibly a side effect of the drug."

Crap. This was just getting better and better. Dad took a deep breath and said, "Boys, it's time to go get your brothers."

Time to 'fess up. "Dad, I don't know that it's going to be that easy. The other day, when John said he was going to go back to see this bit… uh, woman, I said he was too sick, and I swear to God, he looked at me like I was a total stranger. One that he could kill. Seriously."

"Yeah," Virgil nodded reluctantly. "I got the same look from Scott. They're both out of their minds, and I think they'll fight us if we try to tell them to come home."

Dad looked over at Brains like a starving man praying for a meal. "Brains, can you come up with an antidote to whatever this is?"

Brains just flat out turned white. Damn, it would suck to be in that position. I knew that, but I couldn't help but stare with the same hope in my eye. Brains had done some amazing things, and I could only hope he had one more trick up his sleeve. My heart seized up when he shook his head. "I, uh, am afraid that I would need far more data to have any, uh chance at success. The involvement of these particular hormones makes any antidote uh, risky."

"I'm hearing this right, right? You're talking about sex hormones?" Alan asked, frowning.

"Uh, yes, Alan, sex uh, hormones. These hormones are closely linked with aggression, which in turn triggers the uh, adrenal glands. Even in young healthy males like your brothers, spikes in adrenaline are dangerous."

"Brains, we're in the rescue business. We get adrenaline spikes all the time."

"Yes, uh, Virgil, and that should afford them some, uh protection, but it is an matter of degree. A man who regularly lifts four hundred pounds might be able to lift five hundred in a pinch, but if you increase that to uh, two thousand pounds, that man will fail."

Talk was cheap and not getting us anywhere. "Okay, so Brains, how do we get the data you need?"

Brains took off his glasses to fiddle with them. Shrugging, he said, "More samples. Or better yet, a sample of the drug that was used."

"So it still comes down to going over to the mainland and getting either Scott, or John, or both," Virgil stated flatly.

I could see he was getting his game face on. I felt my own resolve start to stiffen too. My mouth was dry at the thought of confronting Johnny. I didn't want to ever see that look in his eye again, but I'd face down that look a thousand times if that was what it took to get my brother back.

Without any outward signal, Virgil, Alan and I all stood up and faced our father, waiting for the final go. Dad looked haggard, and for a moment, I thought he was considering not letting us go, but the moment passed, as he found his own measure of determination, and he nodded, saying quietly, "I want you boys to be very careful. I don't want Scott or John hurt, but I don't want you three injured either. We don't know what is going on here. This woman may be acting on her own, but she could also be part of something larger. Do your reconnaissance, and only go in if you can do so safely. If you can extricate your brothers, do it. We'll worry about antidotes when they're safe. Take the tranquilizer guns. Use them if necessary."

Alan perked up. "Hey, why don't we just use that anesthetic bomb Brains came up with? Drop it on the house, everyone goes to sleep, no muss, no fuss."

Brains had started shaking his head even before Alan spoke up. "No, uh, Alan. Until I have a better uh, understanding of the drug used, any, uh, additional medication would be extremely hazardous. Uh, and that includes tranquilizers. I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy, but if Scott or John can not be coerced into returning voluntarily, their lives will be at risk."

Everybody was tense enough to break into pieces. I could never really stand seeing my family like that. "Okay, I'm picturing a big cardboard box, a stick to hold it up, and one of Grandma's apple pies."

Dad and Virgil both frowned, and Alan looked at me as if I were out of my mind, but a little bit of the tension left them all, which is the most I could hope for. Virgil shook his head. "We're wasting time. We need to get over there and at least scope this place out."


	14. Chapter 14

Virgil headed for the elevator that would take him to the hangars where we kept our planes. Alan and I hurried to catch up. To my surprise, Virgil bypassed the elevator, heading deeper into the house. Alan and I exchanged a look before following. It only took a few steps to realize my brother's destination was the armory.

Alan realized that about the same time as I did, and he suddenly slowed. "Hey, I thought Brains said no tranquilizers."

Virgil tapped in a code on the door, then pressed his hand on the scan pad. The door opened, and he walked in, saying, "He said we can't use them on Scott or John. Everyone else there is fair game."

Whoa. My brother was very scary when he wanted to be, and the coldness in his voice, and the dead fish eyes were enough to make me swallow. He handed Alan and I trank guns, but took a semi-automatic pistol for himself. Neither Al nor I made any comment.

Virgil headed out the door, and Alan looked at me, and grabbed a 9mm, and tossed me one, too. We caught up with big brother just as the elevator door opened. We were all quiet on the ride down, but when the door opened onto the hangar, and Virgil turned left instead of right, I had to speak up. "Virg, we should take the sport jet."

"No." Virgil just kept on walking.

I didn't know what he was thinking, but I was pretty sure it wasn't straight. "Virgil, the sport jet will have us there in less than two hours."

"The nearest place to land a jet is two hours away. I know what I'm doing, now come on."

Oh. He could have said so. Alan and I dutifully followed our brother into the big helijet that we used to haul freight from the mainland. I shouldn't have been surprised. The helijet is to the sport jet what Thunderbird Two is to Thunderbird One. No wonder Virgil would prefer it. When we reached the cockpit, Alan and I almost collided, heading for the co-pilot seat.

"Step aside."

"I'm Virgil's co-pilot, Alan. I'm always Virgil's co-pilot."

"This isn't Thunderbird Two. Go sit in the back."

"I'm Virgil's co-pilot. You go sit in the back."

"You don't even like flying."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Oh, for God's sake. Alan, you take second seat. Gordon, you take navigation."

Virgil's bark didn't really leave room for discussion, so we both did as he told us. I have to admit, it stung. Yeah, I wasn't the big air jock that Alan was, but that didn't mean I couldn't do the job. I parked my butt at the engineer's position, and went through the checklist.

When Virgil called through the headset, I let him know that we were green for flight. "Get me a straight shot to West Wyalong, Gordon."

Well, duh. "Yes sir." It came out sullen, but I didn't particularly care. With the helijet's computer, navigation was just a matter of plugging in the destination. A damned trained monkey could do it. Neither Virgil nor Alan commented on my tone of voice, both being busy getting the big heavy aircraft into the air.

Once we were airborne, Virgil's voice floated again over the headset. "Gordy, get back in the bay, I need you to prep some stuff for me. The big crate."

He had that tone in his voice that made me frown. The one that said I was going to be apologizing for being an idiot soon. My first instinct was to say something rude, but I bit that back and settled for "FAB."

I unbuckled my safety harness and climbed through the hatch into the cargo bay. The crate was hard to miss. It was in the middle of the bay, tied down with typical Virgil efficiency, in front of a big SUV. Okay, I admit it. I was curious. I went over and unsealed the crate, and opened it up.

It proved to have distance viewing gear and distortion camo. Oh. When I was with W.A.S.P. I had trained for a short time as a sniper. I was a very good shot, and if I'd had any real inclination for it, I could have probably gone far. As it was, I was booted over to the high-speed surface craft corps, where I really found a home. Too bad it didn't last.

Anyway, I was the family expert in all the gear in this crate. Which, of course, explained why Alan was co-pilot, not me. Damn it, I hate eating crow. But then, when I thought about it, I hadn't actually said anything. In fact, I'd obeyed every order I'd been given. As I went through checking the equipment, I decided that I didn't have anything to apologize for.

It didn't take me anywhere near the nearly four hours it would take to get to our goal to get the gear checked out. As soon as I had it all set, I headed up ship. My brothers were in their seats, quietly going about their business, but I could tell from the pink shade at the back of Alan's stiff neck that they weren't thrilled with each other. No surprise there. Alan never took to second seat well.

With a sigh, I sat down and buckled up. As soon as I plugged in the headset, Virgil was in my ear. "Gordon, I need you to uplink to Thunderbird Five's computers. I want an exact position on Scott and John's communicators."

"You got it." It took me a couple of minutes, but we were nowhere near our goal, so I had the time. Once I had them located, I patched in satellite imaging, to get an idea of what we were facing. I grunted when I realized that our goal was a farm some 20 miles outside of town.

I guess I was louder than I thought. Either that, or the silence was bugging Alan. Anyway, he jumped on my grunt, asking, "What? What have you got?"

"Virg, we're going to need to adjust our course. Their comms are about 21.2 miles to the west of town off of the uh, Mid Western Highway. Looks like farm country."

"No. We'll land at the airport and drive out."

"That's going to add more time. Why don't we just fly straight in? Get it over with?" Alan's impatience was the only outward sign of his anxiety. His hands on the controls were calm and sure. But both Virgil and I knew he was upset.

Not that we weren't. I mean, how could we not be. Who knew what was happening at that farm? I know the first image I got was of John being fanned by naked women, and fed peeled grapes. But the moment Brains had used the word compromised, that vision popped, and now all I could see was my brothers trapped in some kind of, I dunno, some kind of cage waiting to be fed to the wood chipper. I sighed. I had to knock off those late night horror movie marathons.

I think my biggest fear here was that the woman somehow knew all about us. All about International Rescue. We'd all worked so hard to keep a veil of secrecy over our operations, that paranoia about discovery was something we had to actively fight. But what if she knew? What if she targeted Johnny specifically? What if she was using this drug, whatever it was, to get John or Scott to spill our secrets?

Even if we got them back, and cured, how much damage would the woman do? And God, is she got anything out of Scott, I swear, it'd kill him. I think that that was what was making Virgil so hard right now. He was probably thinking that even if we got our brothers back, it would never be the same again.

Actually, the more I thought about it, the more worried I got. Virgil had his own worries. His voice was husky and tight as he replied to Alan. "We can't get anywhere near that farm, Alan. You heard Brains. They've been compromised. Scott knows this helijet's sound signature. He knows what all of our aircraft sound like. We can't risk him telling that bitch we're on our way."

"Well, how are we going to get from the airport to that farm? Walk?"

I had the answer to that. "We're packing wheels, Al. The Rigor's in back."

Alan froze for a moment, then turned to Virgil. "How long were you planning this? You loaded a four wheel drive, and hunting gear?"

Virgil just shook his head. "I just… I…"

I understood, so I was quick to let him off the hook. "Yeah, I know. I knew there was something wrong too. At least you were smart enough to prepare for it."

Alan glanced back at me, then at Virgil. "Hey, come on, guys. We're going to fix this. There's no way either of you could have known it wasn't just some flu bug. I mean, deathray looks aside, they were both acting normal enough to fool Dad and Grandma."

You know, it wasn't until Al tried to make me feel better that I even realized just how guilty I was feeling. When I looked at it head on, I understood that I'd been thinking that I should have seen what was going on with John, and not let Scott go out there. Yeah, like I could have stopped him.

Al was right, and I found myself nodding my head. It was good to release that guilt. I hoped Virgil could release his guilt too. It could get in the way.

Of course, asking Virgil not to feel guilty was like asking Scott to give up flying. He sat at the controls, his hands practically shaking from the tight grip on the stick and throttle.

He never made a sound, and Alan and I traded glances. With a slight nod, I started. "Of course, it's not all that hard to fool Dad. Remember the time Scott came home drunk from the school play, and we got him into bed, and Virg told Dad that he was just having girl problems? Poor Scott, didn't have a clue what Dad was talking about at breakfast the next day."

"Oh, God, that was so funny! Dad didn't have a clue either. I practically hurt myself trying not to laugh. What I liked best was when they were talking about two entirely different things, but neither of them realized it."

"Yeah, they just kept right on talking. I think they both thought it was one of the best conversations they ever had."

I looked at Virgil's back. His grip had loosened a bit. Alan looked as if he'd continue in that vein, but I caught his eye and gave a little shake of my head. We had to be ready, and there was a time and place for cracking wise.

We'd crossed the coastline some time earlier, and suddenly, both my brothers were attentive to the air controller's sudden voice on our headsets. I listened in as Virgil gave flight information and got clearance.

We flew on, the sun getting lower in the sky. Man, when you're used to a Thunderbird, a helijet is about as fast as a flying pig. An overweight flying pig. I was beginning to wish we'd packed some sandwiches or something.

Finally the town of West Wyalong was under our wings. I frowned, it was a lot smaller than I expected. One main street, surrounded by a few residential blocks. Alan sniffed as he looked out the window. "Swell. The Australian version of Kalvesta."

I shifted in my seat. My brothers were always disparaging our hometown of Kalvesta, Kansas, calling it the back elbow of nowhere. I joked along with them, but you know, I really didn't share that opinion. Sure, I'd left as soon as I turned 18, but that was because I just had such an affinity for the ocean. If it hadn't been for that, and my desire to serve in the Navy, I think I could have been very happy to grow old and die on our old wheat farm. I don't know, maybe we all felt that way deep down. Someday we'd have to have that conversation.

"Coming up on the airport." Alan's remark brought me back to the job at hand. The airport was barely worth the name. Just a few corrugated hangars and a single runway. Of course, with a pilot like Virgil, the size or condition of the runway didn't matter. He touched down with barely a bump, and taxied over the cracked tarmac to the grassy verge. There hadn't been anyone to guide us in, but as soon as we started to shut down, an old guy came limping out of a shack at one side of the runway. It was apparently what passed for a control tower.

Virgil saw the man coming, and said over his shoulder, "Gordon, go take care of him while Alan and I shut down."

I got down to the ground just as the geezer came up. His eyes were all for the helijet. "That a TE300?"

I smiled. "Yeah. You've got a good eye."

He looked at me like he thought I was dissing him. I wasn't. Tracy Enterprises helijets were all pretty much cookie cutter design. Don't get me wrong, it was a good design, but it took an experienced eye to spot the difference between a 300 and say, a 360X. He shot me a look, and said a bit coldly, "What do you need? Service? Petrol?"

"Uh, no, sir. We're here on a day visit. We just need parking space."

He glanced at where Virgil had parked her, and nodded. "You can leave her there. Day rates are five hundred for half day, eight hundred if you leave after dark."

It was highway robbery, but I wasn't in a mood to argue. I pulled out my wallet. "Can you handle WorEx? And customs?"

As he saw the teal credit card, his eyes widened, and his attitude disappeared. "No worries. Follow me, please."

I walked with him back to his shed. He ushered me in, turning on the lights as we went. I was a bit surprised. Despite its small size, the office was neat and tidy. We walked over to the counter, where he took my card, and the three passports, and pulled out a reader. He glanced up at me. "You'll be leaving before dark?"

I shrugged. "Actually, I'm not sure. You'd better make it for the eight hundred."

The old codger reached under the counter for the passport wand, which he waved over each of the three passports. "Where you heading off to? Not many people living in these parts these days."

"Uh, a farm about twenty miles west of here."

The old guy stiffened, and grew pale. I licked my suddenly dry lips. "You know the place I'm talking about?"

He started to shake his head, but then looked up at me, frowning. "You don't want to go there."

"What do you mean?"

"That's the witch out there. You don't want to go anywhere near her."

"Listen, I don't have a choice. My brothers are out there. I've got to get them out of there."

"Mister, if your brothers are out there, they're as good as dead, and you'll be dead too if you don't stay away."

My stomach was tightening into a tiny little cramped ball. "Tell me what you know."

The man's jaw worked, but finally he shook his head. "I've told you all you need to know. You go out there, you won't be coming back. Now get on your way, I've got work to do."

I stood staring at the guy, but he resolutely turned his back and stomped over to a desk and sat down. I wanted to push, but I could see he was scared out of his mind. I shook my head, and left the office. By the time I got back to the helijet, Virgil and Alan had the truck backed out and loaded.

We got in, and with Alan behind the wheel, we headed out. The Rigor was equipped with GPS, and Alan followed the directions to the Mid Western Highway. The highway was a major trucking route, but Alan threaded his way past the big 24-wheelers with ease. Virgil sat in the front passenger seat, checking over his gun.

I sat in the back, watching the land slip past. It was all farming and with the wheat just turning golden, I was struck with how much it looked like Kansas. As we drove down the road, I said quietly, "When I told the guy at the airport where we were going, he said we'd be dead if we went out there."

Virgil turned around in his seat. "What else did he say?"

I shook my head. "Not a lot. Just that there was a witch out there, and that Scott and John were as good as dead. When I tried to get him to tell me more, he clammed up."

Virgil just stared at me for a few moments. Then he raised his wrist comm. "Virgil Tracy to base. Dad, we've got a problem."

I couldn't see my dad's face, but I could sure hear his trepidation when he answered. "What kind of problem, son."

"I'm not really sure what it means, but the locals are aware of this woman, and avoid her. One of them told Gordon that people who go out to her farm die."

After a long pause, my father said slowly, "So this may not have been directed specifically at us?"

Virgil shook his head. "It's hard to say, but I think there's at least a chance that John was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I should have come with you."

All three of us shook our heads at that one. Virgil answered for us all. "No, Dad, we need you there."

It was no less true for being simply put. We all relied on Dad's brains and common sense when we were out in the field. It was way too easy to get caught up in the emotions of a rescue and lose focus. Dad never let that happen.

"Geezus." I looked out the front windshield to see what Alan was looking at.

I felt my jaw tighten up at what I saw. A barbed wire fence stood running at right angles from the road off into the distance, but the demarcation was barely necessary. On one side of the fence, the wheat stood in knee-high golden waves. On the other side, the land was untended, and in fact, looked blighted.

Regardless of what we felt about Kalvesta, we were all descended from hardworking wheat farmers. To see good land mistreated like this hurt something deep inside. Both Virgil and Alan had the same tension and I knew they hated this as much as I did.

"Dad, we'll have to get back to you." Virgil glanced down at the GPS and said softly, "We're here."


	15. Chapter 15

It shouldn't have surprised me, but looking at those devastated fields, I felt a shiver of something like fear curl up my spine. Al was breathing pretty hard. He husked out, "What do we do?"

Virgil tore his eyes from the fields, and looked at us both. He said firmly, "We remember that Scott and John are here somewhere, and we are probably their only hope. Got it?"

You know, Virgil could be just as good as Scott or Dad at bracing us up when he half tried. I nodded, and Alan responded just as firmly, "Got it."

Ducking his head a bit, Virgil nodded. "Okay, then, for now, we drive past. See if we can see the house from the highway."

That made sense. I reached over the backseat and pulled out a Zoomer headset. The high tech digital viewer was Brains' attempt to mimic a hawk's eyes, and with it, I could literally spot a knot in wood two miles away.

Didn't need it to see Virgil's hand in my face, fingers snapping, demanding his own headset. I handed him the one I'd pulled, then got out a second headset, and slipped it on. I really liked this thing. Unlike binoculars, the viewer gave a 180 degree field of vision. It had true color imaging, and worked in bright light, low light, Hell, it worked in no light.

Once I had the headset on, I looked out over the fields, watching for any sign of a farmhouse. After a moment, I rolled my eyes, and reached over and lowered the car window. Nothing quite like a super close up view of a bug splat.

It was one of the problems I always had when I first put on the Zoomer. I kept wanting to focus on every little thing. It always took me a couple of minutes to adjust, so it wasn't a surprise that Virgil spotted the house first.

He said 'there' so softly that I almost didn't hear him over the rush of wind past the window. Alan heard him though, and took his foot off the accelerator as he tried to see past Virgil. Virgil said sharply, "Alan, keep driving. We don't know if there are any lookouts."

My eyebrows went up at that. What Virgil was seeing wasn't the actual house, but rather, a small grove of tall trees over a small rise. Any farm boy would identify those trees as where the house would be. It was useless, without an actual visual on the house, but I toggled on the thermal imaging feature of the Zoomer. As I suspected, the ambient heat masked any heat signature from the house. Alan kept on driving until the grove of trees was no longer visible.

"Pull over, Al." I said, pulling off the Zoomer. Alan found a spot to turn out and pulled over, shutting down the engine.

"So, what do you think?" Virgil directed that question to me.

I nodded, accepting command of the situation. It was one of the things that made us so successful at what we did. We all knew each other's strengths and we respected one another enough to let the strongest lead. As I said, I'd had some experience with sniping, and that made me the logical choice for leader, although, if Virgil knew how slight that experience actually was, he might have had second thoughts.

"I had the thermal imager up and running. There was no sign of any human lookouts, but that doesn't mean the place is unguarded. The fallow fields are a mixed blessing. The furrows and the weeds will give us some protection, but not as much as planted fields would. I think with the distort camo, we can get at least as close as that rise, but who knows beyond that?"

What I was saying was just common sense, so both of my brothers nodded, and we all got out of the truck. Alan had had the sense to pull in behind some scrubby looking trees, so we weren't immediately visible from the roadway. We pulled out our camouflage suits and stood next to the truck pulling them on. Hopefully anybody spotting us would just assume we were rabbit hunting or something.

The distortion camouflage suit was like a hooded coverall. It had been one of John and Alan's most successful collaborations. They'd hashed out the basics the summer after Alan's first year of college, and though it took several years, and a lot of input from Brains, and some pithy comments from Grandma about the choice of fabric, they kept at it. When it was first marketed to American military forces by Tracy Enterprises, it was a huge success, and earned my brothers a big ol' chunk of change. I always said it was a hell of a lot of work just for something to sneak up on Scott in, but in truth, I was really proud of them.

Once I had the suit on, I pressed the switch, and a soft hum started up. It didn't actually make a person invisible, but it did bend light enough that if you moved slowly, it was almost impossible to pick you out from the background, especially if you were more than a few feet away. Up this close, though, I could make out Virgil and Al by the slight shimmer.

Confident that we were as ready as we were ever likely to be, I took the lead. "Okay, let's move out. Spread out, and move slow. We'll meet at that broken eucalyptus on this side of that rise."

"FAB."

"FAB."

Alan's voice was muffled, a side effect of the camouflage's distortion field. "Al, turn on your headset."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He voice was much clearer.

I started across the field, using that slow sliding glide that maximized the camo's effect. I could hear Alan scuffling off to my left, and Virg to my right. It made my sneaky heart wince, but in a practical way, it was better to make enough noise to keep from drifting into one another.

The tree I had declared to be our goal was almost a mile away, and between moving slowly, and occasionally stopping to pull out the Zoomer to check for company, it took us a good 45 minutes to reach it.

The so-called rise was only about two feet above the general level of the ground, so once we reached the tree, we crouched down so we couldn't be seen by anyone beyond. With the Zoomer firmly in place, I laid down, belly flat on the ground and wiggled forward.

The far side of the rise dropped into a valley. Well, it was a depression more than a true valley. I found myself slightly above the level of the roof of the dwelling a good hundred yards further on. Like the fields around it, the farmhouse looked abandoned. Weeds grew right up to the front door, and the corrugated roof was rusted, and curling at one edge.

"Okay, there's no way John would come out here on his own. It's a dump." Alan said in my ear.

I found myself nodding. We were all cautious. We had to be. Even without International Rescue, we were the sons of a billionaire, and had in the past been targets of all sorts of kidnap and extortion schemes.

"How do we get close?" Virgil was practical as always.

I'd been scanning the house with my Zoomer, and if there was any closed circuit security system, I was damned if I could see it. I could see a couple of new cars parked out back, but they were the only indication of modern life. There wasn't even a power line. Of course, it was possible the utilities were underground, but the house itself wouldn't have been the home of a prosperous farmer, even in good repair.

The more I looked, the less sense it made. I got that shiver at the base of my spine again. "Can you, uh… can you verify? Are you sure Scott and John are here?"

"Locators on Five say yes."

"And if you look with the imager, you can see four or five people in the house… although… a couple of them are sick or something."

"What do you mean, Al?" I said as I triggered my thermal imaging system. The shiver got a bit stronger. I could see at least five people, maybe as many as six or seven through their heat signatures in the house. All but one of them were in a back corner of the house, prone and unmoving. There was definitely something wrong with most of those unmoving bodies. The thermal imager was designed to highlight anything with a temperature between 97 and 100 degrees. Two of the bodies stood out as highlighted. The others were definitely human-shaped, but the temperatures weren't as hot as they should be. Al was right. There were definitely sick people in that house.

"I'm gonna say the one in the front is the bitch." Virgil had that coldness in his voice again.

I turned my focus to the upright body. It appeared to be sitting at a table or something. "Well, I can't see any sign of any guards or a security system. It doesn't mean there isn't something, but I think we can move in. Al, you take the back, Virg, you see that window over there? I think that is into the room with the prisoners. I'll move in from the front."

"Hey, I thought we were just doing reconnaissance." Alan was not happy.

"We are. You and I are back up. Virg is going to get a look in that window, then we'll back away and figure out what to do."

Virgil said quietly, "All right. You two keep in mind, we don't know how this drug is delivered, so be careful."

"All right, let's go, but Virgil, don't you move in until Alan and I are in position."

"FAB."

With my stomach tight with tension, I started forward, my eyes flicking from the ground in front of me, to the windows and doors of the house. This time, I couldn't hear a sound from either of my brothers. It was comforting to know they were with me.

As I moved toward the house, a slight breeze blew directly into my face. I sniffed something, and froze in my tracks. I swallowed hard, and asked quietly, "Did either of you smell that?"

"Smell what?"

"You smelling gas or something, Gordon?"

It was a lot worse than a gas leak .It was an ugly smell that I had only come across on those rescues that lasted several days. It was a smell of human death and decay. It wasn't something you could mistake for anything else. I took a deep breath, but the breeze was gone, and all I smelled was dry earth. Was I just imagining it?

"Gordon, talk to me."

Virgil's voice grounded me. "There are dead bodies somewhere near."

There was a pause, then Virgil said, "All right, let's keep moving."

It was a relief that my brother didn't question what I had smelled. When the breeze picked up a moment later, I got another whiff of it, and I knew it wasn't my imagination. I took a few deep breaths despite the stench to get my suddenly racing heart under control.

I moved forward, more apprehensive than ever. I was using my Zoomer to sweep the area behind me to make sure there was no one trying to get the drop on us when Alan whispered urgently, "Freeze!"

I did as I was told, but then, trusting in my camouflage, I slowly turned around to see what was going on. A woman had come out of the house, and stood among the weeds in front of the door, stretching.

I was frankly surprised. Like Virgil, I had just assumed that the one upright body in the house was the woman who had lured my brother John away from that wedding. This woman couldn't possibly be the one. She looked to be about fifty, and not well kept. She wore a stained housecoat that didn't hide the shape of the drooping breasts or bloated stomach. Her thin gray hair looked greasy, and her skin was like pasty white clay.

She had to be an associate of the woman who had caught John and Scott. I froze again as her eyes swept over me. She had the most amazing eyes. Even at a distance, I could see they were clear, and sea-green. She stretched again, and to my surprise, I discovered that my previous impression had been wrong. She was beautiful.

It had to have been a trick of the light, because she was obviously young, and lithe, with a body meant to be held. How could I have ever thought she was anything but perfect? She reached up and tousled her long golden hair, and turned away. I had a thought that she'd love the cove near our home.

I wanted to go up and talk to her, but in a moment of clarity, I realized that a disembodied voice would probably frighten her. I hurried to strip the camo off, but by the time I had the hood back, and the top half dropping past my waist, she had gone back into the house.

I was trying so hard to get the suit off quickly, that it became tangled up in my legs, and I fell down on my butt. I kicked to get it off as I started trying to think of an excuse for turning up on her doorstep. I could hear a buzzing from the suit, and I realized it was the headset. My brothers.

Well, I'd seen her first. They could just back the hell off. Finally! My feet were free, and I got up and headed to the front door. I'd made it within about 15 yards, when something knocked me off my feet.

"Gordy, what the hell are you doing?"

It was Alan. The asshole had the nerve to try and stop me. Well, it wasn't going to happen that way. I jumped up to my feet, spotted the slight shimmer in the air, a moment before he put his hand on my shoulder. That was all the direction I needed. I swung my fist up from the level of my knees, and I connected, by God. That'd teach the little shit to try and get between me and a woman.

I could tell by the crack when my fist met his jaw that he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. I swung a kick at where I knew he was, and was rewarded with a pained grunt. Satisfied, I turned and headed for the house.

I made it about halfway when my legs suddenly went wobbly on me. I went to my knees, feeling weakness spreading through my body. It was very confusing. I looked at my legs and saw something orange and feathery sticking out of my hip. I knew that meant something, but a purple darkness rolled over me before I could figure it out.


	16. Chapter 16

Oh, man! I haven't felt like this since that time I got the flu. I was all weak and achy. I opened my eyes, and closed them right back up. There was way too much light. I tired to lift my hand to rub at the gunk sticking my eyelids together, but it was no use, I couldn't even get it off the bed.

"Baby? Are you awake?"

Despite the pain lancing through my head, hearing Grandma's voice was a comfort. She always knew how to make me feel better. I licked my lips to try to get enough moisture in my mouth to answer, but it was no go. Grandma noticed, because I felt a hand holding up my head, and the rim of a glass or cup at my lips. I took a swig, and it was sweet cool water.

"Thanks, Grandma." It came out as a croak. I felt a cool washcloth working on my face, and after a few moments I was able to open my eyes. Still too much light, but I didn't like not knowing what was happening. "I don't feel good, Grandma."

Uh-oh. Grandma had that look on her face. The one that said I was in deep doo-doo, but she was being nice because I was sick. I tried to remember what I had done wrong, but everything was fuzzy. I wanted to reach out to her, to touch her and say I was sorry for whatever it was I had done, but again, I wasn't able to move my arm.

Frowning I looked down at my body, and felt my eyes go wide at the sight of the leather restraining strap across my chest. Bewildered, I looked up. "Grandma? What's going on?"

She caught my eye, and said in a serious tone, "Gordon, you've been sick. This is all just for your protection. I want you to just relax, and know that we'd never do anything to hurt you."

Damn, this was bad. "I know that, Grandma. What happened? What's wrong with me?"

"Do you remember hitting your brother?"

I blinked. I'd hit my brother? Which one? I tried to remember, and a hazy image of swinging my fist at Alan emerged. Alan? I'd hit Alan? Well, it wasn't as shocking as all that. We'd had a few tussles growing up, but we hadn't had a real fight in years. Why would I… wait… Oh, wait a minute. I had hit him. He was trying to keep me from getting to that girl… that woman.

"Yeah, Grandma, I hit him, but he was asking for it. Grandma, there was this woman. She's beautiful, and I think I'm in love with her. I think I want to marry her."

To my surprise, Grandma turned white, and her mouth pursed up. "Baby, you broke your brother's jaw."

So what? "Grandma, he was trying to keep me from her. He's already got a girl. He had no business trying to horn in on my girl."

"Honey, listen to me. That woman is not your girl. Do you remember why you went out there? Do you remember Scott and John being drugged? That woman drugged them, and now she's drugged you. You don't feel good? Well, that's because you've been drugged."

Why was she not getting this? Stupid old woman. "Grandma, you're not listening to me. I love this woman. She wouldn't drug me, I just know it. Think about it. You've always said you'd like to see great grandkids before you die. Here's your chance. Let me up, I'll go get her and bring her here, and you'll see. I promise you're going to love her."

Grandma just shook her head sadly. "No, baby. I know you don't believe this right now, but we're going find a way to cure you and your brothers. For now, you just need to relax and let us take care of you."

What the hell was she talking about? "Grandma, I don't need a cure, I just need to get up. Let me up. Now."

Instead of doing what I needed her to do, she stood up, ran her hand through my hair and walked out. She walked out on me, like I was nothing. I swear, if I hadn't been tied down like a frog on a lab table, I would have squeezed her scrawny neck.

I started seriously trying to pull free of the damn leather restraints. I had straps across my chest and hips, and leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles. I had a vague memory of joking about these straps with my brothers when they were first delivered. If I'd known then that they would be used to keep me prisoner, I would have cut them up.

I kept at it despite the lack of success. After what seemed like several hours, Brains put in an appearance. "Brains! Come over here and let me up, would you? I'm not sick, Grandma just made a mistake."

"Uh., actually, uh, Gordon, you were restrained under my uh, direction."

What the hell? Was this betray Gordon day or something? "Well, it's time to change direction, buddy. I need to get up. Unstrap me."

"Uh, that won't be possible at this time. I, uh, came in to draw some blood for additional testing."

"Let me up, and you can have all the blood you want."

"I'm sorry, uh, Gordon, but for your own safety, you must, uh, remain restrained."

You try to be nice, and they walk all over you. "Damn it, Brains, if you don't come over here and release me, right now, I'll kick your ass into high orbit."

He got this wintry little smirk on his face and said, "Given the threat, it would uh, be highly illogical for me to release you. Now, you'll need to hold still…"

He came at me with a sharp needle. There was no way in hell that I was going to hold still for that. I bucked as hard as I could. I got some satisfaction from the way he leapt back. Yeah, he should be afraid of me. When I got loose, I was going to rip his head from his shoulders. He looked at me, and saw the promise in my eyes. He swallowed hard, and left the room.

Little weak-assed nerd. Who the hell did he think he was? I continued pulling against the bonds that held me. It was hard to keep up the effort. My head was throbbing, and my muscles were shaking with weakness, but I had to get free. She was waiting for me, I just knew it.

A few minutes later, and Brains was back, this time with reinforcements. Virgil followed him in, looking all serious. Wait a minute… back at the house… there was something in my hip… Son of a bitch! "You tranked me, you bastard!"

Virgil swallowed, but didn't say a thing. In fact, he would even look at me! How dare he! "I'm going to kill you, you traitorous bastard! You son of a bitch!"

He didn't pay me any attention, he just reached over and grabbed my arm, holding it so Brains could get his damn blood. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Let me go! Did you hear me? I said let me go! You stinking bastard! You're gonna pay for this! Don't think you aren't! Either of you! I'll cut your hearts out, you hear me?"

They ignored me. They got their damn blood, then stuck a second needle in me. Brains hadn't even pulled it out before I could feel the lassitude spreading. "You piece of shit! You drugged me! You…"


	17. Chapter 17

Oh Lord. I must have really tied one on. My head was killing me. My neck and shoulders felt as if I'd been lifting barges. I lay in my bed very still, afraid to move for fear that my back would seize up.

I couldn't remember anything, a sure sign of too much alcohol. Seriously too much alcohol. Al and I must have been out together. Had to be Al. If I'd been out drinking with Scott or Virg or Johnny, they wouldn't have let me get slobber-faced, but Al would just go toe to toe with me. I had a vague memory of him offering to buy me a beer, and me saying shooters instead, but for my life that was all I could remember.

I tried to roll over, but even that was beyond me in my present state. I did manage to roll my head to one side. I opened my eyes expecting to see my alarm clock, but instead I saw a table that I recognized as being in the infirmary. Ah crap. If I was in here, then the family knew about the binge Al and I had been on.

I closed my eyes up, and painfully rolled my head to the other side. I opened my eyes expecting to see Alan in the bed next to mine, but I got another surprise. The other bed was empty, but Grandma was in a chair next to my bed. Uh-oh.

Might as well get it over with. "Grandma, can I have some water, please?"

She sat back, a wary look in her eyes. After a moment, she smiled, and turned to the carafe on the table. "Of course you can, baby."

She poured a glass, and put a straw in it. I went to bring my hand up to hold the glass, but I couldn't. I looked down and found I was in restraints. Frowning I looked up to ask Grandma about it, but she was holding the glass so that the straw was at my lips. For the moment, all I really wanted was that water, so I pulled the straw, and sucked hard. Oh, God, it felt so good, sliding down my parched and aching throat.

"Thanks, Grandma. What's with the leather? You going kinky on me?"

The joke fell flat. Grandma looked at me as if she could start crying at any moment. Damn it, what had I done? "Grandma? Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

She tried to smile, but her lower lip quivered, and although she reached out to pat my hand, she looked away. Oh, damn, damn, damn. It had been a long time since I'd made her so unhappy, and my stomach twisted with the pain of it.

A nasty little thought occurred. Maybe it wasn't anything I'd done. Maybe I was sick or something. Maybe I was dying. No, that couldn't be right, could it? I mean, if I was really on my way out, Dad would be here, wouldn't he? Right? And Scott. Nothing would keep Scott away. Damn, why couldn't I remember anything?

"Grandma, talk to me. What's going on?"

She wouldn't look at me. I was getting more and more frightened. Why wouldn't she look at me? "Grandma? Please? I don't know what I did. I don't remember anything. Please talk to me. Please tell me what's wrong."

My voice broke, and I think that's what caught her attention. She never could stand seeing people in pain. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry. You haven't done anything. Well, you hurt your brother, but it wasn't your fault. You were drugged, well, infected, Brains said. You didn't know what you were doing."

Oh my God, what did I do? "Who, Grandma? Who did I hurt? How bad is it? If I hurt someone, why aren't they here in the infirmary?"

It was weird. It was like I was outside of myself. I could hear the rising hysteria in my voice, but I couldn't do anything to control it. And the more I realized it, the more panicky I felt. I started to struggle. I needed to be free of this bed. I needed to get away.

Two cool hands on either side of my face, helped calm me a bit, and when I focused my eyes, my grandma's face was filling my vision. Her voice eventually cut through the panic. "Gordon, son, listen to me. Calm down. Take deep breaths. Look at me. You're safe. There's nothing so broken that it can't be fixed."

Safe? Why wouldn't I be safe? What the hell was wrong with me? I didn't get rid of that panicky feeling in my stomach, but Grandma was helping me keep it under control. "Okay, Grandma. I'm okay."

She looked at me, assessing. After a moment she nodded. "You hit Alan and broke his jaw. He'll be fine. He's in his room, recovering. He's not here in the infirmary because you are infected, and being around other men right now is dangerous for you."

"Dangerous?"

"Yes, honey. One of the effects of the infection is an increased level of testosterone. When you were awake before, just the sight of Brains and Virgil set you off." Her lips pursed. "You were very rude, and at some point, when this is all over, I'll expect you to apologize to both of your brothers, and to Brains, too."

More than anything, being scolded by my grandmother helped quiet the panic. I frowned at her. "Um, I'm still a little fuzzy on the dangerous part, Grandma."

"Any time any hormone runs rampant, there are dangers to your body. You know that, Gordon."

Well, yeah, but that was just adrenaline, right? "Okay, so you're telling me just the sight of Virgil could give me a heart attack?"

I couldn't help the little bit of smirk that occurred. Grandma noticed, and wagged her finger at me. "Don't you start. This is very serious business."

That sobered me up. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Grandma. So how did I get infected? I don't remember a thing."

She looked at me. "What's the last thing you do remember?"

Okay, think. "Um, I think Virgil, Alan and I went to uh, North Korea. Yeah, that's right! A dam was in danger of collapse, and we went up to put a sealant on it. Oh, man, those kids! Grandma, that idiot Kim had a bunch of school kids lined up on the dam to try and stop us. They were terrified. But Alan landed, and got them all calmed down, and we got the sealant on, and then… uh… I guess we came home."

"You guess?"

I shrugged. "Well, I'm here, so we must have, but I can't say that I really remember the flight."

"Do you remember why your brother, Scott, wasn't with you?"

"Uh, yeah. He caught the flu from Johnny."

Grandma shook her head, sadly. "It turned out it wasn't the flu. It was the same infection that you have."

I looked around the room. "Where is Scott, anyway? Did he get better?"

"No. He didn't get better. You remember your brother, John, running off to Australia?"

My stomach was starting to tighten again. What did she mean Scott didn't get better? And what did John's infatuation with a girl in Australia have to do with anything? Frowning, I said, "Yeah, I remember that. What's that got to do with Scott?"

She put her hand on mine. "Sweetheart, Scott went after John. He told Virgil that he wanted to be with that woman that John had met."

What? I couldn't help myself, I interrupted her to defend my brother. "Whoa, Grandma! Scott wouldn't do that. He just wouldn't."

Grandma waited until I was quiet, then nodded. "No, he wouldn't. Not in his right mind, anyway. Before he left, Brains took a blood sample. He discovered that your brother was infected with something that was affecting his mind and body. He figured out that the woman in Australia had somehow infected them both, and that it was the infection that drew them both back to her.

Okay, this was seriously bizarre. Grandma continued, "You and Virgil and Alan flew off to see if you could rescue your brothers, but when you got there, the woman somehow managed to infect you. When Alan tried to stop you from going to her, you hit him in the jaw. Virgil was forced to use a tranquilizer gun to stop you."

"Well, how did she infect me?" Inquiring minds wanted to know.

"Alan was convinced she looked you in the eye. He said she was looking out over the field where you were, and that's when you started to go to her."

Huh? "She saw me, and I freaked?"

"Well, no, you were wearing that camouflage that does that distortion thing."

I blinked. "So, she didn't actually see me, but just the act of looking in my direction infected me." I deadpanned. "That's crazy. You do realize that, don't you?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Not much crazier than Scott trying to steal John's girl, or you breaking Alan's jaw. Virgil said that you were downwind of the house, and that you had smelled something previously, so Brains believes it was something in the air. A pheromone."

"A pheromone. You're kidding, right? There's no such thing as human pheromones, Grandma. I learned that in high school biology. They did scientific studies on it."

"Your brothers made the same argument. But Brains is convinced. Given how you and Scott and John have acted, I choose to believe him."

"Okay, so I'm strapped down here because if I weren't, I'd be clobbering Brains and Dad and Virgil, and running off to Australia to prove mine is bigger?"

"Gordon! There's no need for you to be vulgar." Grandma was no prude, but she did have limits.

"Sorry. But Grandma, I have to say, I don't feel all sexy and aggressive. Maybe I'm better now."

She looked away. "Actually, Brains has come up with a palliative."

The way she said it got my guard up. "What kind of palliative?"

She paused, then with a nod of her head decided. "It's a drug called cyproterone. It's normally used to treat things like prostate cancer."

I felt my jaw drop. I knew damn well what cyproterone was used for. It was used to chemically castrate psychopaths. I think Grandma realized pretty quick that her ruse hadn't worked. She looked at me with something like pity. "Now, don't you worry about it. It's fully reversible. And it's only until Brains comes up with a cure. Now, are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

I didn't really trust myself to say anything, so I just nodded. Grandma patted my hand. "All right, I'll just go get you something. You just relax and I'll be back in a jiffy."

She left the room, and I tried to um, wiggle a bit, tried to rub up against the sheets and leather straps, but it was no good. There wasn't going to be any up periscope for me. A feeling of sadness and loss came over me. I didn't care that it was temporary. I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all.

I didn't get a chance to sink into a funk, because the door to the infirmary opened, and Brains stuck his head in. "Uh, Gordon. How do you, uh, feel?"

"You castrated me. How do you think I feel?" I hadn't meant it to come out so harshly, but hey, it was honest.

"Uh, actually, I do uh, know how you feel. Mr. Tracy, Virgil and I have all taken the same drug I gave you."

"Oh, now, that's just crazy! Why would you do that?"

"Scott and John are still at that woman's house. We are uh, going in to free them. In addition to full Hazmat gear, I felt it would be prudent to uh, take chemical precautions against the substance in question."

"Still crazy."

Brains ducked his head. "Believe me, there is no one who appreciates the uh, surreal nature of this situation more than I, uh, Gordon. However, I can not overlook the uh, very real symptoms that you and your brothers have exhibited, any more than I can uh, overlook the presence of a pheromone in your blood stream."

"Okay, here's what I don't get. You keep talking about a pheromone. I'm no scientist, but I thought true pheromones were limited to insects and stuff. Oh, and I thought they were naturally occurring. So far, you haven't used the word synthetic once."

I stopped and stared at him. He nodded reluctantly. "Based on the evidence at hand, I have concluded that this is not a synthetic substance, but actually produced by the woman's body."

"So, she's what? An alien? A mutant?" I didn't even try to keep the skepticism from my voice.

Brains looked away, his cheeks turning pink. In a voice low with embarrassment, he said, "There is uh, certain lore to support such a creature."

Lore? What was he talking about? "Lore. You mean like fairytales?"

"Uh, not exactly. Are you familiar with the term, succubus?"

He had to be kidding. I cocked my eyebrow. "Yeah. It's a warlock-controlled demon that freezes its enemies with seduction."

His head came up at that, and he smiled a bit. "You and uh, Alan play the same games, don't you?"

Stay focused. "You're telling me that the woman that John met at a wedding is some kind of demon? What the hell have you been smoking?"

Brains sighed, and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, hanging his head. "I only wish this was a uh, drug-induced delusion. This woman's uh, ability flies in the face of everything I've ever thought uh, possible."

"Okay, so maybe there's some other explanation. I mean, there's got to be, right? I have to tell you Brains, I'm not really ready to live in a world where demons are real."

His head came up at that. "This is not a supernatural phenomenon. Of that, I am uh, positive. There are many folk tales that have a basis in uh, fact. I am quite certain that this, uh, creature has a very uh, ordinary and natural history."

I cocked an eyebrow. "There ain't nothing ordinary about a woman who goes around sucking men dry, Brains."

Brains smiled wryly. "You're right, of course. Well, I need to, uh, get going. We're leaving to get your brothers, uh, shortly."

"Whoa, wait a minute! You aren't going out there without me! Let me up!"

Brains shook his head worriedly. "I'm afraid you're going to have to uh, sit this one out, uh, Gordon. Your father is quite adamant. And even if he weren't, I would advise against it. The cyproterone appears to be working, but there is no telling what additional exposure might do to you."

I bit my tongue to keep from saying what I thought of that. Taking a deep breath, I looked Brains in the eye. "Go get Dad for me, please, Brains."

I thought for a moment, he'd refuse, but the moment passed, and with a shrug, he nodded and left the room. I laid there, unable to even scratch my nose, trying to think of an argument, any argument that would sway my father.

When he walked in a few minutes later, I still hadn't come up with anything. He looked old and defeated, but he smiled down at me. "How are you feeling, son?"

"Worried. Scared. Dad, please, you've got to let me come with you."

He looked away. "No, son. I need you to stay here. You just relax and take it easy."

"You're taking Virgil and Brains?"

"Yes."

"You know that's a mistake, right? I mean, if something happens to Brains, then we're sunk. I'm sunk and so are Scott and John."

"Virgil and I can protect him."

I could tell by the way he said it, I had struck a nerve. I had to be careful about how I said it, but there was no way I wasn't going to press this. "Dad, am I hearing the commander, or the father, here? Are you leaving me behind because you think I'm a liability, or because you want to protect your son?"

He looked at me then. "I will always be your father, Gordon. I will always do everything in my power to protect you."

Damn it was hard to fight that kind of overwhelming love. I just hoped I'd someday be half as good a father to my own children. I sighed. "I know that, Dad. I've never ever doubted that. But what about Scott and John? You want to protect them, too. I know you do. You need to decide the best way to go about it. Now, Brains is as smart as they come, and I'm relying on him to come up with a cure for this. But in the field? Face it, Dad, he doesn't have the training and he sure doesn't have the temperament. If you and Virgil are worrying about protecting him, you're not going to be concentrating on getting to Scott and John. I'm right, you know I am."

I hoped I'd been logical and convincing, but Dad was shaking his head. "You've already been exposed, son. If we go out there, and you start taking swings at your brother or me, we'll all be in danger."

"Take a swing at Virgil? Do I look like I have a death wish?" I wasn't that crazy.

Dad snorted, but then thought for a moment and said dangerously, "Your brother's reaction would be nothing compared to what I'd do."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, then, there you have it. Dad, you need me out there. You know you do. I'll have the same protection that you and Virgil will have, and unlike Brains, I can defend myself. What's he going to do, whip out a test tube?"

Dad gave me a look that let me know I was over the line, but he started unbuckling the straps as he said, "Gordon, Brains is an integral part of this team. I don't like to hear you denigrating him like that."

Finally I was able to sit up. As I swung my legs out of bed, and went upright, I was hard put to not show the pain that drummed through my head. I licked my lips and gingerly nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. I know he's better than I give him credit for, but honestly, Dad, you need me out there."

"Don't make me regret this, son. We leave in thirty minutes. We're taking Thunderbird Two."

Wow. There were a lot of things I could say to that, but I simply swallowed, and said, "Yes, sir."

It was a smart move. Dad was in full commander mode. "Go get ready and get to the hangar."

Despite the swordfish mosh pit going on in my head, I hustled out before he could change his mind. In the hallway, I practically ran over Grandma, with her lunch tray. Her face went pale when she saw me, and I had to reach out and steady her. "Gordon! What are you doing out of bed?"

"Dad let me up. Don't worry, Grandma, I'm fine. Is that for me? I've got to go get ready to go, but I'm as hungry as a horse."

I tried to take the tray, but she held on to it. "You're not going with your father? Surely not!"

I got her to let the tray go, and looked her in the eye. "Grandma, Scott and John are in trouble. They need help, and Dad needs me. Don't you worry, that drug is doing wonders. Tin-Tin could come prancing through wearing nothing but that silly swimming cap of hers, and I'd hardly notice."

Grandma pursed her lips and punched my arm. "Well, if you're going, go get ready. Leave the dishes outside your room."

I passed by her, dropping a kiss on her head as I went. I knew nothing I said would take away the worry that she was trying so valiantly to hide.

I made it to my quarters, and put the tray with its sandwiches and fruit on the desk. Knowing the bulky Hazmat gear was hot enough, I opted for shorts and tee shirt. I changed quickly, snatching bites of the sandwiches as I went.

Once I was dressed, I gulped down the glass of milk, and grabbed the apple. Mindful of what Grandma had said, I opened the door to my quarters, and put the tray on the floor right outside. I took a few steps to my next destination.


	18. Chapter 18

With a deep breath, I knocked perfunctorily on Alan's bedroom door, before pushing it open and walking in. My brother was lying on his bed, his face swollen and black and blue. I winced in sympathy at the sight. I'd really done a job on him. Until I saw the proof, I'd kind of been hoping it was all some silly mistake.

"Hey, you awake?" I whispered it, in case he wasn't.

He opened one eye, then both eyes flew open. "What are you doing here?"

I flinched at the pain in his voice. "Uh, apologizing? Damn, Al, I'm really did a number on you, didn't I? I'm sorry, I don't even remember doing it."

"You think that excuses it?"

His response was so pugnacious that I knew I was in for it. "No, I don't. There isn't any excuse, and I know that. But I do want you to know that I'm sorry I did it. And I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you."

"You kicked me."

I frowned. "Really? I thought I'd hit you. That's what Grandma said."

"You hit me, and when I was on the ground, you kicked me."

"In the jaw? Damn. I'm sorry."

"No, you kicked me in the gut. You broke my jaw, and when I was helpless, you kicked me."

"Okay, so how many times am I going to have to say I'm sorry?"

"You want to make it up to me? Fine. I want your bike," Alan said, with narrowed eyes.

"My Harley? I don't think so. But I'll tell you what, you can ride when you're in town, and I'm not."

"You said you'd do whatever it took."

Leave it to Alan. My first impulse was to just walk away. But I looked at him lying there with his face barely recognizable, and a thought occurred that compared to a stupid motorcycle, my brothers were everything to me. So I shrugged, and said, "You're right I did. I'll tell you what, I'll sign over the pink slip as soon as I get back. I gotta go. Take it easy, kiddo."

I left before he could get past his surprise. You know, the bike really wasn't that important. I kept it in a hangar in New Zealand. I only got a chance to go over and ride maybe five times a year, if that. If taking that bike from me satisfied my brother's sense of justice, so be it. I was going to be feeling guilty for a lot longer than that bike would last. How could I have hurt him like that?

I pushed that thought aside, as I headed for Thunderbird Two's hangar. For now, I needed to get my game face on. I hit the elevator and stood jittering as it took me to the hangar floor. The stupid Muzak washed over me, and did nothing to calm or soothe me. What the hell was a bossa nova anyway?

When the elevator opened up, I headed for Thunderbird Two. I'd only taken a couple of steps when I realized someone was over at pod three, loading something up. I headed over to see if I could help. I found Brains at the loading console, directing his robots to load up what looked like weapons cases. "Hey, Brains, need any help?"

Brains started, and looked over at me. Whoa. My stomach went through the floor. He had the same look in his eye that John had had that fateful day. Only, it wasn't momentary. How could Brains have gotten infected? I thought he'd had that shot of cyproterone. I watched him warily as he seemed to consider his words. "Y-you t-told your father that I was unfit."

Oh boy. "No, I didn't. What I said was that I was more expendable." Brains' look turned from poisonous to merely disbelieving. I shook my head as I continued. "Don't you get it, Brains? If anything happens to you, who's going to save Scott for me? And John? You're the only one with half a chance of coming up with a cure for this. If we bring in outsiders, are they really going to believe it's a succubus? Or are they going to waste time trying to come up with some other explanation?"

He looked away. "I wanted to be there. I wanted to help save them."

I felt really bad for him. I mean, I knew exactly where he was coming from. I'd been in the same position less than 30 minutes earlier. It would kill me to have to stay behind. "I know, I know. But Brains, we can't afford to lose you. It sucks, but you'll be the hero of the year if you can figure out a way to lick this thing. And believe me, there's nothing that you could do at that farm that's going to be even half as important."

Brains nodded, but still his head was hanging. "S-sometimes I just w-wish I could be, uh more like you and your brothers."

Whoa. That was a surprise. But still, it brought a smile to my face. "You know, I've never wished I were as smart as you. I've always thought if I could just be half as smart, I'd be a hundred times smarter than I am."

That got a small smile out of him. "You're uh, smarter than you give yourself uh, credit for, uh, Gordon."

I clapped him on the back. "Yeah, well, if I don't get on board, Dad will kill me, so how smart would that be? I better hustle."

Brains nodded and looked me in the eye. "Stay safe."

I smiled and nodded. "FAB"

I turned and headed for the ship at the trot. I'd have to figure out something really special to do for Brains. I knew that it was the right decision to leave him behind, but I also knew that staying behind and waiting for others to do the job was harder than hell.

I was on board Thunderbird Two, and on my way to the cockpit when I heard the sound of the pod conveyor start up. As always, my guts started tightening in anticipation of a rescue. I let out a deep breath with the thought that this one was far more important to me than any other. Not even saving the Arctic from industrial waste was as important as saving my brothers.

When I reached the cockpit, I was mildly surprised to only find Virgil. "Where's Dad?"

Busy with his controls, Virgil never looked up, just muttering, "He's coming."

I took my seat and buckled up, checking the boards, making sure they were all green. It was one of my duties, but I'd never yet found anything that Virgil hadn't already discovered and started to repair. Still, it gave me something to do.

I was still going over my mental checklist, when I realized Virgil had gone quiet. I looked over to find him staring at me with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"You called me a bastard. You called me a son of a bitch."

Ah geez. Not again. "Yeah, well, you're too late for the Harley. How about a Ski-Doo?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Alan wants my Harley for hitting him, so you can't have it. I don't have much else that you'd want, so how about the Ski-Doo?"

"I don't want your damn toys."

"Then what? A pound of flesh? A pint of blood? What, Virgil?"

My brother sat back and stared at me. I just wanted this to all go away, but it didn't look like it was going to happen anytime soon. I stared back at him, waiting for his condemnation. When it came, it took me off guard. He said quietly, "An apology would be nice."

I felt like a punctured balloon. I sagged in my seat. "Virgil… I'm sorry. You know I'd never say crap like that if I was thinking clearly."

He cocked an eyebrow. "At least, not while you were within hitting distance."

"Oh heck yeah. Fifty yards minimum head start. Really, Virg, I can't tell you how bad I feel. When I got a look at Alan, I just about crapped in my pants. You know you guys mean the world to me."

Virgil rolled his eyes. "All right, let's not get girly about it. I accept your apology. Oh, and your dessert for the next seven days."

I pulled a face. Leave it to Virgil to go right for the food. Still, if it made him happy, I could survive with a little less ice cream. I nodded, and we both turned back to business.

A few moments later, Dad came in and buckled up in the jump seat. "Let's go, boys."

"FAB." Virgil was all business, flipping the control to open the hangar door. "Thunderbird Two to base, ready for take-off."

"Uh, you are clear for takeoff, Thunderbird uh, Two." Despite his disappointment at being left behind, Brains remained professional.

As we rumbled out to the launch elevator, which lifted us to a forty-five degree angle, there was that pause that I always experienced right before take-off. It was as if the entire world had taken a deep breath in anticipation. My focus tightened just like it used to before a major swim meet, and for better or worse, I knew I was ready to go.

I don't know if Virgil or Dad felt the same way, but as we were pushed back into our seats by the increasing angle, they were both still and quiet. Then Virgil reached forward, and the big bird roared into the sky.


	19. Chapter 19

As soon as Thunderbird Two leveled off, I unbuckled to go get the Hazmat gear. I heard Virgil confirming flight co-ordinates as I was joined by my father.

I couldn't help but think about what my brothers were going through. I mean, I didn't for a moment buy Brains' theory that this woman was a succubus, but she had definitely done something to John. Scott had just seemed sick, but there was no way he'd have run off like he did if he were in his right mind.

And what about that? Would Brains figure out a cure, or would we have to be on cyproterone the rest of our lives? And even if Brains could cure us, would Scott and John ever be the same? I mean, Scott was tough, and so was John for that matter. But what if they were like, I dunno, brain damaged or something?

God, I had to stop thinking like that. As I finished sealing up my suit, I looked over at my dad, and even through the visor, I could see the same thoughts were haunting him. I didn't know what to say. Well, when in doubt, I always found falling back on routine helped, so I stepped up and double-checked Dad's suit, making sure it was properly sealed.

He did the same service for me, and with a thump on my shoulder, he led the way back to the cockpit. When we entered, Virgil said tersely, "E.T.A in five point three minutes."

Dad was just as terse. "Go get suited up. Gordon, you take the controls."

It was a mark of just how weird the situation was that Virgil didn't even make a token protest. He just slid out of his seat as I slid in. I checked the controls, and verified we were on target. We were at 50,000 feet, and the coast of Australia slid beneath us as I settled in.

With Dad at my shoulder, I calmly flew the big bird. There had been a time when his presence would have made me incredibly nervous, but that time was long past. After all, I had learned from the best. We were within thirty seconds of our goal when Virgil strolled back in. He tried to look nonchalant, but the heavy breathing gave him away. He'd run all the way.

We exchanged positions, and he immediately put Two into hover mode. From my co-pilot seat, I brought up a magnified image of the farmhouse. It was directly below us, and from this height, looked no different that any other isolated structure.

"All right, boys, we're going to be visible from that highway, so I want to make this as quick and clean as possible. Virgil, we'll drop right straight down on them. Gordon, you job will be to get to your brothers and get them out. I'll go after the woman."

I was nodding, but Virgil wasn't. "Dad, what about the others? When we were here before there were at least four or five other people in that house. What about them? We can't just leave them."

Yeah, Virg was right. We couldn't leave anybody behind. "He's got a point, Dad. And what if they put up a fight?"

Dad held up a hand. "I understand your concerns, but let me finish. When we are right above the house, we're going to drop a canister of RDAG on them. Brains assures me that it will be effective, but it will not endanger your brother's lives. Once you've secured your brothers, Gordon, you can bring aboard any other victims. We'll drop them off in Canberra on our way home."

Okay, I could get behind that. If that anesthetic gas would knock Scott out all the better. I don't care how sick he was, he was a formidable fighter. Wait a minute… "Uh, what are we going to do with the woman, Dad?"

"We're going to let Brains examine her. Under controlled conditions. We're going to figure out a way to stop her. If it means sending her to a prison in Outer Mongolia, so be it. But we are not leaving her to do this ever again."

Virgil and I shared a glance. It was a Bad Idea, with a capital B. But neither of us were willing to delay getting to Scott and John to argue the point. Dad moved closer. "Gordon, run a thermal imager over that house. Let's see where the people are located."

I nodded as I brought a high power thermal imager online. I sucked in a breath at what I saw. Before I could say anything, Dad asked in a puzzled tone, "Where are they? Where are the victims?"

Where the last time there had been at least three hot spots readily identifiable as people, now there was only one. The back room where the victims had been held only showed a few fading heat signatures. Oh God, were we too late?

"Screw the RDAG, we're going in now." Virgil's voice held a frightened determination.

For our father's sake, I pointed to the cooling signatures. "This is where they are. I think at least some of them are dead, and the rest are in big trouble."

I saw my father swallow hard at the inference, and he made no sound when Virgil started dropping Thunderbird Two like an express elevator straight down. I kept my eyes on the image on the monitor. It didn't take long for the one hot body to react to the scream of jet engines directly above.

I watched as in an apparent panic, the hot spot moved out from the front door of the house. She surprised me when she ran back inside instead of heading for one of the cars parked in the back. I stared hard as she moved into one of the front rooms.

It was a relief that she didn't head directly for the victims, but I didn't have a clue what she was doing. Getting a gun? Setting a booby trap? She seemed to be just standing there in the middle of the room, but then suddenly, the image evaporated. There was no other word to describe it. One moment there was a hot red human-shaped blob, the next it was dissipating like smoke in a breeze. "What the hell?"

"She must have a cellar of some sort."

Yeah, that had to be it. I nodded, and then I was up and moving as Virgil touched down. Dad was in the lead, and Virgil, again to my surprise, was right behind me. So much for shutdown protocol. We ran for the hatch, and as soon as it opened, we were out the door.

I moved to the right at the run. It seemed like the woman was gone, but Virgil had landed a good fifty feet from the house, and the bright white Hazmat suit practically shone as a target.

I made it to the front door at the same time as my brother and father. We all three had our trank guns up and at the ready. I was on one side of the door, Dad and Virg were on the other. Dad gave a hand signal, and Virgil moved up and shattered the front door with a single kick.

We wasted no time entering the house, again spreading out as soon as we were through the door. The fact that the room was filthy barely registered with me as I headed for a warped door that had to open into the room with the victims. At another wordless signal from my father, Virgil followed him into the room where the woman had disappeared.

I grabbed the doorknob and shoved with my shoulder, but I needn't have made the effort. With a screech of hinges, the door swung open. I stepped into the dim room and stopped in shock. Against the far wall of the room, there were bodies. Bodies of dead men stacked like cord wood, eight or nine deep. There had to be at least fifty of them. All ages, all sizes. In a mockery of a high school biology class, I could see the progress of decay, with the freshest bodies on the top, with layers of increasing corruption as my eyes swept downward.

The Hazmat suit, bulky and uncomfortable, was a blessing. I could practically see the putrid odor in the air. That air was filled with buzzing insects, the end of a life cycle that began with the myriad maggots that infested all levels of the corpses.

The floor was stained with blood and other fluids that had leaked from the decaying mound. Most of the bodies were laid with the feet outward, but enough of them were with the heads visible that I could see the looks of obscene rapture on each and every face. Despite the heat of the closed room, I felt a shiver trace down my spine.

I stood there, unable to move. My eyes had been drawn to one corner, where the bodies might have been fresher. I could see a couple of pairs of familiar shoes. Funny, isn't it? In a room where death has given anonymity to an unholy number of men, you can spot a pair of shoes, and just know they belong to your brother.

I've been through a lot in my life. As a front line rescuer, I've grown immune to horror. I've seen just about every shocking and disgusting thing that can happen to a human body, and I've developed a damn thick skin because of it. But the faces on the bodies nearest to me all showed such an obscene parody of bliss, even in death, that I literally could not force myself to move. I couldn't, wouldn't look. I didn't want to see that beatific joy in my brothers' eyes.

I was pushed aside from behind as my father and brother rushed into the room. I fell to my knees. I just didn't have the strength to stand anymore. I know my face was wet, with tears, maybe. Or sweat. I wanted to heave my guts out, but in the Hazmat suit, that was impossible. So I just knelt there, useless.

My father was swearing under his breath as he took in the unimaginable scene. Virgil was the only one able to move. He'd spotted the same shoes I had, but instead of freezing like a deer in headlights, he'd rushed over to the corner where our brothers lay on top of dead men. "Scott? Scott, can you hear me?"

With great gentleness, Virgil pulled Scott from the top of that foul pyre of death. To my horror, something on Scott's body caught on one of the other victims, and Virgil's slight tug started a cascade of bloated corpses. They hit the filthy floor with squishy plops, several of them splitting open, spilling guts infested with insect larvae.

Virgil swallowed hard, but carried Scott into the other room. My father moved anxiously toward the corner, calling out in trepidation. "John?"

Dad found John, and with the same gentleness Virgil had shown, picked him up and carried him to the other room. I couldn't just wallow, so I got up and followed. Virgil was doing an assessment on Scott, checking for pulse and breathing. He called out to at us. "He's still alive. Gordon, go get hover stretchers. And the EMT kit."

That I could do. "What about the witch?"

Dad never looked up from his assessment of John. "Don't worry about her, son. Go."

Good enough for me. I turned and headed out the door. I couldn't help but keep a wary eye on the other door to the room where the woman had disappeared. The door was open, but there was no hint of movement, and I wondered if my father had done something permanent to the woman. Or maybe he just locked the cellar door.

I got to Thunderbird Two, and headed for the medical bay. One of the nice things about our hover stretchers, Brains designed them to stack for storage and transport. I pulled out a stack of ten, and triggered the bottom one so I could just tow them behind me. I hefted the EMT kit on to the top of the pile, and headed back to the house.

I wished I could open the visor and wipe my face, but that would be inviting disaster. I'd already broken Alan's jaw. I sure as hell didn't need to risk hurting my Dad or Virgil. I trotted back to the house, the stretcher package floating behind like a faithful dog. Still no sign of that woman.

In the front room, my brothers Scott and John had been carefully laid out on the floor with three other men. It was a pitiful few to be left alive, given the number of men in the death room. I started setting up the stretchers, handing them off one by one to my dad or brother as I got them ready. None of us said a word. There wasn't a hell of a lot to say.

As my father and Virgil loaded men up, one of the victims, a kid about fifteen, seemed to regain a measure of consciousness. Dad made a soft sound of dismay as the kid started making mewling noises, and tried to squirm away. When Dad's grip slipped, the kid tried to crawl back into the horror room. I had to swallow my bile. There was just too much similarity between this kid, and the blind maggots wriggling through the flesh of other, less fortunate victims.

It took a few moments to get the kid under control. Not because of any show of strength on his part, but rather because Dad was trying to be gentle. I watched for a moment, then went over and helped him out. We got the kid strapped down on a stretcher, then with a shared glance, we all moved to strap down the other victims.

Once all five were loaded and ready, Virgil and I picked up the first in line, and headed to Thunderbird Two. I still couldn't help glancing over at the room where the woman disappeared. There was no sign of her, but when we got to the medical bay on Thunderbird Two, I had to ask, "Virgil, what happened with the woman?"

He glanced up at me, then continued setting up an IV on the kid. "She wasn't there."

"Yeah, and?"

He looked me in the eye. "There wasn't any cellar. No trapdoor, just dirt under the floorboards. She wasn't there."

I suppressed a shudder. "Yeah, okay. I'm heading back. You going to stay here?"

"Yes."

I nodded and headed back to the house. It was hard not to feel jumpy. Maybe she had run away. Maybe she decided to hide until we were gone. I don't know, but it seemed to me that a woman who could kill this many men wouldn't be intimidated by three guys in white suits.

When I got back to the room, my heart stuttered. One of the men on a stretcher had a sheet pulled up over his head. I had to reassure myself that John and Scott were still alive. A quick glance gave me that reassurance. The dead man's stretcher was the next in line, so I gestured to him and asked, "What about him, Dad? Should we just leave him?"

My father turned haunted eyes on me. "No, son. We'll take him along. Do you think you can handle the stretcher on your own? I don't want to leave here."

Of course, the whole point of a hover stretcher was it only required one man to move it. And I certainly understood my father's need to stay with my brothers, so I nodded, and triggered the power on the second stretcher. The man on it had been maybe forty years old, dressed in a business suit. Old enough to have been a father, maybe. I treated him with respect as I moved him over to Thunderbird Two. I took him into a refrigerated hold that often did duty as a morgue.

I paused before I shut the door on him, but honestly, there wasn't much more I could do for him. I headed back out, and got the third victim. This guy looked like a hard case. He had tattoos up and down his arms, and his nose had been broken at least once. I couldn't really look at his face. He had that same eerie look of euphoria. It was damned creepy.

I got him over to the medical bay. "Virg, we only need four setups. One guy didn't make it. I've put him in hold 4G."

My brother briefly bowed his head. "Yeah, okay, help me get this one onto the bed."

Together we slid tattoo boy onto one of the beds, and I turned to head back once again. Virgil stopped me. "Gordon, you stay here with these people, all right?"

He was all tense like he expected me to argue, but in truth, I was relieved. I'd been very careful up to this point not to look too closely at my brothers. I know it was cowardly of me, but I just couldn't face that look on my brothers' faces. I nodded, and turned back to the victim, and after a pause, Virgil trotted away.

I needed to set up an IV on the guy. One thing that was obvious about all of the victims was that they were all dehydrated. You could see it in the cracked lips, and when I pinched up a fold of skin on the back of the guy's hand, it didn't snap back when I released it. When I felt his arm for a vein, I found the tats covered a lot of scarring, probably from drug use.

It took me a while to get the needle in, and finally, when I'd slid it home and taped it down, I heard the sound of someone approaching. I moved my hand to my holstered trank gun, and watched the hatchway cautiously. After a moment, my brother appeared, towing a stretcher, and I was able to let my heart settle down.

Virgil moved into the room and I could see it was Scott on the stretcher. It hurt to see him so still. Virgil moved him over to one of the empty beds, and looked at me to help him move Scott into the bed. I had to bite my lip, but I don't think my hesitation was that noticeable. With a one, two, three, we slid my brother from the stretcher to the bed.

I had started to help Virgil settle Scott, when Dad came in with the last stretcher with John onboard. I turned to help, but Dad shook his head. "Son, go get the rest of the stretchers so we can get out of here."

I nodded. "Okay, Dad."

I left the medical bay with a shameful sense of relief, and trotted back to the house. As I entered the front room, I had the most amazing vision. Instead of the dump that I knew the place to be, the room seemed to have transformed itself into a beautiful lanai. I could feel the sea breeze on my face. I could see a sparkling blue ocean just beyond the edge of thatch-covered porch.


	20. Chapter 20

I felt a delightful sense of lassitude. My eyes were drawn to a doorway through which I could see a platform bed covered with soft pillows. I took a step toward it, and for a split second, there was another scene overlaid. A scene of stark horror, of dead bodies. I shook my head, and the lanai was back, but whether it was the drug Brains gave me, or maybe the Hazmat suit, I knew I had to get out of there.

Screw the stretchers. I turned around to take off. It was then that I felt sheer panic. Instead of a weedy front lawn and Thunderbird Two beckoning me, I saw a beautiful white sand beach. Lying on a colorful beach towel, was the most beautiful woman in the world. She smiled at me and lifted her hand, inviting me to take it and her.

I stood still, breathing hard, trying to resist… but, on the other hand, why should I resist? I mean, I was a healthy male, what could it hurt to just go talk to the lady? She was absolutely stunning, and to my amazement, the swimsuit she had been wearing seemed to dissolve away as she turned to me.

It was weird, because in other circumstances, I would have gotten a raging hard on at the sight, but it was almost as if I couldn't … Wait… there was a reason for that, wasn't there? I wasn't supposed to… do… something. I looked at the woman, and she was calling me to her. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew if I just went closer, I'd hear her bell-like voice. I wanted that more than anything in the world… didn't I?

I took a step toward her, but then I stopped. What was it I was supposed to know about her? I reached up to wipe the sweat from my brow, and was surprised that my hand couldn't reach my face. It hit some kind of obstruction. I concentrated on that hand, and after a moment, I could see the glove that covered it. Glove? Why was I wearing… Oh yeah, the Hazmat suit. I glanced over at the girl, and felt my heart drop. She was walking slowly away, hips swiveling, as she looked provocatively over her shoulder at me.

I had to get to her. I just knew if I didn't, I'd lose her. I stepped toward her, but I was caught in a second vision, where I was wearing a Hazmat suit in a weed and dirt-filled yard. I tore my eyes from the woman, and to my surprise, saw Thunderbird Two just a few feet away. Oh man… It all came rushing back. I bolted for the ship, and dove through the hatch without ever looking back. I knew if I looked at that woman again, I was as good as dead.

On board Thunderbird Two, I raised a shaky hand, and triggered the controls to close the hatch. As it slid home, it was like a switch. All thoughts of the woman slid out of my brain and I was left feeling shaky and cold. Breathing hard, I hit the intercom. "Dad, she's out there. We've got to get out of here."

My father's voice helped to further ground me. "Where are you, son?"

"I'm at the hatch. Dad, we need to leave now. The Hazmat suit and the cyproterone are only partially effective. We need to go." I was trying for professional, but I think I came across as shaken and pleading. I headed toward the elevator that would deliver me up to the cockpit. I wasn't going to risk that woman getting aboard. If Virgil didn't get us out of here, I intended to do it.

The elevator opened as I reached it, and my dad was there. He reached out to grab my shoulders, like he wanted to steady me, and truth be known, I probably needed it. I grabbed his arms, and looked him in the eye. "Dad, we are not letting that woman on board this ship. I know you think Brains can control her, but she'll kill us all, believe me."

Dad shook his head. "Son, if we don't stop her, there will be more poor souls in that room."

I closed my eyes for a moment to gather my thoughts. "I know what you are saying, but listen… I've had the cyproterone shot. I was wearing the Hazmat suit. None of that protected me. It might be because I've already been exposed, but what if it isn't? What if you go out there, and she adds you to her pile?"

To my surprise, Dad was slowly nodding. He put his arm around my shoulder, still offering support. "All right. I understand. Virgil will take us home. Let's get back to the medical bay, and you can tell me all about it."

I nodded as Dad called Virgil and told him to get us into the air. Even before we reached the medical bay, Thunderbird Two's mighty engines had roared to life. I've never heard a more beautiful sound in my life. Once we were airborne, I unsealed the hood to the Hazmat suit and pushed it back, and wiped the sweat from my face. My Dad was watching me like a hawk. "Are you all right, Gordon?"

I could see the hint of fear in his eye, so I smiled to reassure him. "Yeah, I think so. When I was out there, I was hallucinating pretty badly, but when I got the hatch closed, it was cut off. I think this big girl saved me." I reached out a hand and fondly patted the wall.

Dad frowned. "What do you mean hallucinating, son?"

I shook my head. "When I got to the house, it suddenly became a beach house. There was a big bed, and all I wanted to do was go lie down, but then it flickered for a moment, and the bed was that pile of bodies. I turned to get away, but I couldn't see Thunderbird Two. All I could see was the ocean, and the woman calling to me. I'm telling you, Dad, I came this close to going to her. It was sheer luck that I tried to wipe my face. My hand hit the faceplate, and I saw the glove, and that broke the illusion long enough for me to get aboard."

Dad cocked a worried eyebrow. "So, you're saying even knowing that she was dangerous, you still would have gone to her?"

"See, that's the thing. Once the hallucination started, it was like it was complete. All I could think of or see was what she wanted me to think of or see. It didn't really stop until the hatch shut, then it was like a light going out."

"But you're okay now?"

"Yeah. I think so. I don't feel like going back to her, and I don't have any urge to hit you, so I think I'm fine."

Dad nodded slowly. "All right, then, let's get out of this gear, and take care of our patients."

I nodded, and started unsealing the suit. It took only a few minutes, and I was free of it. I stretched and did some heavy duty scratching as I watched Dad finish taking off his own suit. He ran his hands through his hair scratching at his head. He looked over at me with a rueful smile. "Good to get out of it."

I grinned. "Yeah."

I started for the main medical bay, but Dad stopped me with a hand on my arm. "Son, go on up and give your brother a chance to get out of his suit."

Yeah. That was a good idea. I sketched a salute and headed up to the cockpit. My brother was on the comm as I walked in. He finished up what he was saying, and glanced up at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it was a close call, but I'm fine. Dad sent me up to relieve you long enough to get out of that suit."

"No time. You need to get down to the lockers and get in uniform We'll be landing in five minutes at the hospital in Canberra. You'll need to do the off load."

I nodded. "FAB."

I headed to the lockers at a trot. We had spare uniforms there, and I was able to get changed just as Two started her descent. I jogged to the medical bay, but only found my brothers. Apparently Virg had given Dad the word.

I reached the main rear hatch just as Virgil touched down. Dad had the two live victims along with the dead one all set to go. He saw me in my uniform and nodded. "There should be hospital personnel standing by, son. Don't waste any time."

"Yes, sir."

Dad disappeared back into the ship, and I hit the controls to open up the hatch. I stepped out into the warm sunshine, and looked around. There were several people in white outfits up near the front of the ship, looking lost. I whistled to get their attention and waved them over.

As soon as they started in my direction, I stepped back into the ship, and pulled out the first of the stretchers. It was the kid. His eyes were open, but the stare was vacant. Made my mouth go dry. I shook it off, and guided the stretcher out into the light, just as the first of the hospital people arrived. "G'day, mate. What have you got for us?"

I smiled at the guy, who grabbed the other end of the stretcher to help me. "We're not sure. We were called out to a farmhouse in the country. We found these guys unconscious. Oh, and we have a DOA with us too."

The guy proved to be a doctor, and he immediately started a triage examination of the kid. Confident that he had things in hand, I turned back to the hatch for the second victim. This time I had plenty of willing helpers as the rest of the hospital people arrived. I directed two to take the hard case, and two more to get the one who hadn't made it.

Once they were all off of the ship, I addressed the first guy, who seemed to be in charge. "Sir, can you get these people back, please? We need to take off, and I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

The doctor looked at me, then up at the ship. "I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you fellows. You do amazing work. And this ship is incredible."

I tried to smile, but my heart just wasn't in it. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, we really don't have the time."

"Well, what about your gear? These look like pretty high end stretchers."

I shook my head. "You're welcome to them. Now, please. You have patients to attend, and I have work to do."

Yeah, I know I was abrupt, but I just wanted to get home. The doctor smiled to show he took no offence, and turned to start moving his people back. With relief, I boarded the ship and shut the hatch. I leaned back against the hatch, totally exhausted.

Well, I'll call it exhaustion for lack of a better term. I hadn't really been working all that hard, but still I was, I don't know... Sad. I guess. I knew I should be angry at the loss of life. I should be full of rage, right? But I wasn't. I was feeling kind of bereft, you know?

I didn't feel like there was anybody I could turn to. I couldn't tell Grandma. It just wouldn't be right to burden her with this. Alan was so mad at me that he wouldn't listen. Dad and Virgil had been there. They didn't need to hear it. God. What a wimp I was. I pushed off the wall, determined to just suck it the hell up.

I headed straight for the cockpit. I figured I could relieve Virgil before he ever lifted off. Give him a chance to get out of the Hazmat suit, give himself a good scratch. Thunderbird Two fired up her engines and lifted off before I was even halfway there. Well, I could offer anyway.

I reached the cockpit, and found my brother at the controls, dressed in jeans and tee shirt. Well, duh. Of course he'd take advantage of the time we were landed to change. I stood there a bit unsure of what to do. He glanced over at me. "Everything go okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, you want me to fly her? You can go help Dad with Scott and John."

"No thanks. But you can take that Hazmat gear, put it back in the locker."

I nodded and gathered up the suit. I sometimes wish we were the kind of guys who could talk. I mean, we do talk, but when things got really tough, like now, we all kind of just clammed up. With a sigh, I left Virgil in his silence and took the suit and left.


	21. Chapter 21

I got to the lockers and I put the suit away. I'd have to go over it before it was used again, but for now, I just didn't have the energy for it. I looked over at the table and its built-in benches. I would have liked nothing better at the moment to just give in, and go sit and put my head down. But I knew Dad had to be feeling pretty much the same way I felt, so I headed for the medical bay to give him moral support if nothing else.

When I got there, I was surprised to hear a croaky voice. "You're not listening. I need to get back there. I love her."

I entered the room to find my father leaning over Scott, wearily shaking his head. "Son, I know you think that now, but when we get you home and cured, you'll understand that this is all drug induced."

"Understand? You think I don't understand? You're the one holding me against my will. I don't need a cure. I just need you to undo these damn straps."

"Scott, you need to relax, man. If that woman really loved you, you wouldn't be half dead right now."

Scott turned those laser eyes on me. "What the hell would you know about it? You wouldn't know love if it jumped up and bit you on the ass."

Damn, he said that like he really meant it, and I suppose at the moment he did. He was jerking around in the restraints, trying to free himself, but, as I knew from experience, he was getting nowhere. "Scott, give it up. Those straps aren't going to come loose."

He stilled for a moment and looked up at me with a sneer. "We should have let you die when we had the chance."

I flinched at that. I knew he didn't mean it. He couldn't have really meant that, right? But the look he gave me said otherwise, and I have to admit, it really hurt. Dad stepped up between us, and caught my eye. "It's the drug, son. Your brother loves you. Don't you ever doubt that."

I swallowed hard and nodded. Yeah, when I thought about it, one comment couldn't wipe out over twenty years of a relationship. I wouldn't let it. I nodded more firmly, and turned back to my brother. "Sticks and stones, Scotty boy, sticks and stones."

Scott snorted derisively and looked away. "Where's Virgil? I want Virgil."

Dad shook his head. "Virgil is flying us home, Scott."

"You stupid old man. I WAS home. You took me from my true home, but I can guarantee you, I will get back. You can't keep me on your damn island, no matter what the hell you think. You pathetic weakling." Again with the sneer. "You think holding on to your sons will keep you from being lonely? Well, let me tell you, you had your chance at happiness, and all of your greedy grasping ways didn't save my mother. You can just rot on your island, for all I care. I'm going to go back to the woman I love, and nothing you do will stop me."

Oh, man, that was a low blow, and I could see by the clenched fists and jaw on my dad that it had struck home. I took a deep breath. "You know Dad, you shouldn't listen to Skippy here."

My light tone brought a deep frown to Dad's face. "Skippy?"

"Definitely. Here's how I figure it. You and I both know Scott would never, ever, under any circumstances, talk like this guy. Ergo, it isn't Scott. And if it isn't Scott, it must be his evil twin, Skippy."

Dad's frown disappeared. He knew I was just trying to lighten the deadly mood, and he appreciated it. He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Ergo?"

"Hey, I know big words."

"Idiot. Ergo only has four letters." Scott growled, as he continued to try to pull free of the straps.

I ignored him, instead affecting surprise for my father. "Wow. Four letters. It's a bigger word than I thought."

Dad snorted, shaking his head. Looking over at Scott, he said, "You should listen to your brother. Those straps aren't going to come loose. All your struggling is just going to get you hurt."

"You goddamn bastard. Let me up."

Dad just sighed, and turned to check on John. I went over to join him, and I didn't like what I saw. I was past being bothered by the look of hollow euphoria. John was barely breathing. His face was beyond pale. If it weren't for the vitals registered by the medical pallet, I would have thought he was a ghost.

I reached to take his pulse, and was alarmed by how cold his skin was. I checked the register for his body temperature, and was shocked to find that despite the warming blanket that had been tucked around him it was low. Too low.

It scared me enough that I didn't wait to consult with my father. I lifted my communicator and made a call. "Thunderbird Two to base. Brains, we've got a problem here."

I was gratified with the quickness of Brains' reply. "Base to uh, Thunderbird Two. How can I, uh, help?"

"Brains, John has been covered by a warming blanket set at seven for fifteen minutes, but his temperature is still only 95.6. His breathing is shallow, and his pulse rate is fifty-two. Blood pressure is eighty-seven over sixty-five."

"Uh, understood. You need to uh, get his temperature up. Place him on one blanket set at uh, seven, and cover him with a second blanket set at ten. Keep a close watch, uh, Gordon. As soon as his temperature hits, uh, 97 degrees, take him off the blanket, and lower the top blanket to seven."

"FAB, Brains." I'd already gotten the second blanket as I listened to instructions. By the time I'd gotten to John's bedside, Dad had rolled him up on his side, so all I had to do was spread the blanket on the bed. Together, Dad and I settled my brother back down.

I saw a glimpse of fear in my father's eyes, but I didn't say anything, because I was pretty sure I had that same fear in my eyes. I didn't even want to consider the possibility that we were too late. I mean, it was on me if we were, right? We would have gotten to Scott and John a lot quicker if I hadn't freaked out when Virgil and Alan and I had gone out there. I know Virgil would never have left if both Alan and I hadn't been incapacitated, and who's fault was that?

I grimaced at the thought, and pushed it out of my mind to concentrate on John. Once the blankets were in place, and turned on to the settings Brains had suggested, I turned to the other bed. Scott was still pushing and pulling at the straps. Persistent bugger, wasn't he?

I checked the monitors on his bed. His temp was low, too, but nowhere near as bad as John's. I pulled at his twisted-up blanket, straightening it out, and making sure he was covered. The whole time he was shooting me dirty looks. I ignored him.

"Gordon, if you don't unstrap me right now, I'm going to rip your heart out."

I suppressed a shiver. Scott had used his 'reasonable' voice. It was so at odds with the venom spewing forth that it just gave me a chill. I could feel his eyes scrutinizing me, and so I turned and smiled at him. "What was that, Skippy? Did you say something?"

"I will twist your nuts off."

"Still can't hear you."

"I will hang you up by your scrawny little dick and flay the skin off of you."

"That's nice. Okay, you're all set. Let me just go check in with Brains."

"You're worthless, you know that? Dad only lets you come out with us because he pities you. We all do. You miserable cripple. We'd be better off if you'd just swim out to sea and drown yourself."

Damn. This really was an evil twin. He knew just where to stick the knife. I was proud of myself that I never let it show how much his words had hurt. I looked over at Dad, who opened his mouth to tell me it wasn't Scott, as if the tirade hadn't given that away. I stopped him with a lift of my finger. "Didn't Brains say that RDAG wouldn't hurt them?"

"Gas? You're going to gas me? You rotten little prick! I'll kill you! You hear me? You try gassing me, and I'll tear your throat out!"

I kept my eyes on my Dad. I didn't want to hear anymore. Not because it was so hurtful, although it was, but because it was Scott who was saying it.

You know, we called him 'mini-Dad' and 'Dad Junior' in jest, but he really was like a second father figure to me, and to my brothers too. He'd always taken care of me. He'd always defended me. He'd always just been on my side. I didn't want to hear any more because I didn't want to feel like I'd lost him.

Dad, for his part, apparently felt the same way, because he raised his communicator. "Thunderbird Two to base. Brains, Scott is out of control. Worse than Gordon was."

"Uh, understood. You'll find a syringe labeled A4 in drug compartment, uh 14. Inject the entire uh, contents. Through the IV if you uh, have one set up."

Oh, good move, Brains. He'd apparently assumed Scott could over hear what he said. Keeping it general prevented Scott from knowing the injection probably included cyproterone, which would have probably caused him to meltdown. It was bad enough as it was. Scott just started screaming incoherently, jerking his body around as much as the straps would allow.

I could tell Dad was in no shape to deal with it, so I went to the compartment, got the syringe, and injected it with as much cool proficiency as I could while shaking like a leaf in a storm. I was truly grateful that the drug, whatever it was, was fast-acting, and Scott quickly succumbed.

Once he was out, I took a step back, and sank down onto an empty bed. After a moment, Dad came over and sat next to me. Neither of us said a thing at first. I think we were both just too exhausted. Eventually, I looked over and asked, "You okay, Dad?"

He shrugged, and a wry smile came to his face. "To tell the truth, that 'evil twin Skippy' thing really helped. I never thought I'd see a day when your brother would say such things."

'Hey, you got off light. At least he didn't tell you to go drown yourself."

Dad snorted, then fell quiet. I was fine with that. It was comforting just to sit next to him. The quiet stretched a good ten minutes, neither of us feeling like talking. I hoped Dad was getting something out of it. I just calmed down being next to him. He's always had that kind of calm strength.

I was keeping an eye on John, and just about the time I saw the body temp register click over to 97 degrees, he started moving a bit. Dad spotted the movement, and let out a sigh, muttering, "Oh God, round two."

Well, there was no point in putting it off, so I went over and turned off the blanket he was lying on, and turned the one covering him down to seven, as Brains had instructed. To my relief, John never woke up, he just squirmed for a few more seconds before settling down and falling back to sleep.

Scott, to my surprise, looked like he was doing a lot better. His body temperature was almost normal, and he'd gotten a bit of color back in his cheeks. I checked the setting on his blanket, and turned it down a few notches.

I stood by the bed staring at him. Asleep, without that revolting parody of joy on his face, he looked just like the Scott I'd always known. I almost wanted to reach out and shake him awake, see if he was back in his right mind. Almost. If he was still that nasty SOB I dubbed Skippy, I didn't want him ever to wake.

God. What a mess. I looked over at Dad, who'd pulled his chair up to John's bed, and sat holding my brother's limp hand. The haunted look had not left his eyes since he'd met me at the elevator. Of course, he didn't have the kind of front line experience that I did, and I was barely keeping it together. Dad had to be totally overwhelmed.

I wasn't really sure what to say. I looked down at Scott again, and realized that I'd always depended on him to give me guidance on how to handle this kind of heavy situation. Thunderbird Two started air-braking, and I knew we had reached the island. That reminded me that I wasn't totally alone in dealing with Dad. Virgil would know what to do.

Once again I fell back on protocol to give me time to think. I double-checked that the medical beds, and my brothers, were locked down and secure. I hit a wall control to bring out a couple of seats for the landing.

Dad watched me work, and the movement brought some life to his eyes. Once the jump seats were locked in place, I looked over at him, and he left the bed he was sitting on to come join me. We buckled the safety harnesses in silence, and listened as the big ship's engines grumbled into landing mode.

As usual, Virgil made the transition from flight to rolling on the ground so seamless that if it hadn't been for the sound of the big wheels on the tarmac, I might not have realized he'd made touchdown. As it was, I was unbuckled and out of my seat as soon as we were down.

By the time Virgil had brought the ship to a halt in her hangar, I had Scott and John ready for transport. The medical beds in Thunderbird Two were heavy duty versions of the hover stretchers that we'd used to bring them onboard, so it was a simple thing for Dad to take control of Scott's bed as I took John's and we headed to the hatch.

Virgil was already waiting for us with worried eyes. He looked at Scott in particular. "No sign of waking up?"

That was right, Virgil didn't know about Skippy yet. My Dad and I shared a glance, and I responded for us both. "Actually, Scott did wake up for a bit. Let's just say I understand now why you wanted my dessert for a week."

That brought Virgil's head snapping up. I think he saw the look in Dad's eyes, because he swallowed and nodded curtly, but didn't say a word. Dad said softly, "Let's get them into the house."

Virgil was closest to the hatch, so he hit the controls, and the heavy door lifted. We had a reception committee waiting for us. I was a bit surprised to see Alan there, but I suppose I wouldn't have stayed in bed if our positions had been reversed. Brains and Grandma looked worried, but stood stoutly awaiting us.

As we disembarked, Brains immediately moved forward, and Alan and Grandma were close behind. Brains had some gizmo or other that he attached to John's temple. It was small, with a blinking light, and whatever it was reporting, Brains seemed satisfied. He turned and put a similar device on Scott.

To my surprise, he approached me. "Uh, Gordon, I want to uh, place this sensor on your forehead."

I instinctively raised a hand to fend him off. "Me? Why me?"

"Uh, Virgil advised me that you had another uh, encounter with the uh, succubus."

I shot a glance at my brother, but he was focusing all of his attention on the medical bed with Scott. "Yeah, I did, but I got lucky and got away. Don't worry, Brains, I'm not going to go psycho on you. I'm okay."

Brains was undeterred. "Nevertheless, uh, Gordon, I would like to place this sensor. It, uh, won't hurt a bit."

I backed away, frowning. Why did I need that sensor if I was okay? I opened my mouth to refuse, but I caught something out of the corner of my eye, and glanced over to see my grandma staring at me, white as a sheet. Alan was looking uneasy too. I realized that even normal crankiness was likely to be misinterpreted right now. Given how Scott was acting, I guess I couldn't blame anyone.

I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh. "Oh, okay, if you really think it's necessary."

I was surprised to see even Brains relax when I agreed. He stepped forward to place the sensor, and I was half tempted to yell Boo just to see him jump. Of course, that'd probably scare Grandma too, so I just stood quietly and let him place it.

To my surprise, the headache that I'd been suffering for the last several hours disappeared as if it had never been. "Wow! That makes a difference. Thanks, Brains."

Brains frowned. "Uh, what do you mean, Gordon? This uh, sensor should have no effect on you. Its purpose is uh, to merely monitor your brainwaves."

I shrugged. "Well, it also killed the headache. Either that, or you have the healing touch."

"Very interesting." He nodded, and turned back to my brothers. I could tell my reaction had surprised him, and that in turn surprised me. I was tempted to pull off the sensor to see if the headache returned, but between the look on Grandma's face, and the relief of being pain free, my hand stayed down.

At Brains' command, Dad and Virgil steered the two beds across the hangar floor toward the freight elevator. Without a second glance at me, Alan and Grandma followed behind. I stayed where I was.


	22. Chapter 22

Somebody had to restock Thunderbird Two. It was as good an excuse as any. I just didn't want to be in the room if Scott woke back up. It was just too hard. And what if John woke up with that look in his eye? I didn't want to see that either.

Feeling like a coward, I set to work cleaning up the ship, replacing the two beds, and the medical stores we had used. On a hunch, I went up to the cockpit. As I suspected, Virgil had only done a basic shutdown of Thunderbird Two's systems. I slid into the primary pilot position, and set the diagnostic computer to work.

All told, I spent about a half hour getting the ship prepped so that it would be flight ready for the next call. Then I spent another half hour just sitting and staring off into space. When I started thinking about what it would mean if Brains couldn't come up with a cure, I got up and left the ship. I just didn't want to think about it.

I headed up to my quarters, thinking about a shower and a change of clothes. The house was quiet. I supposed everyone was in the infirmary. When I got to my room, I remembered telling Alan he could have my bike. I went to the floor safe in the corner of the room and opened it.

I didn't really need a safe. Dad had had them installed in each of our bedrooms when the house was built. At the time, I'd shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. It seemed silly to me. There was nothing that I had that I wouldn't trust my brothers with. Besides, any one of them could crack a safe if they really put their minds to it.

In time, I realized that it was a good idea. Not to keep my brothers from getting at my stuff, but just as storage for important papers, like my WASP discharge, and the pink slips for my two cars and the motorcycle.

I pulled out the papers on the bike, and after a pause, signed the back so Alan could transfer the ownership. I really liked that bike, and in fact, at the moment, I would have liked nothing better than to be over in New Zealand, flying down the road on it.

With a sigh, I went over to Alan's room. It was unlocked, and I figured with him down in the infirmary, I could just drop the pink slip on his desk. I pushed the door open and stepped in, then came to a halt. Alan was at his desk looking at something on his computer.

He looked up, and I bit the bullet. "I'm just dropping off the pink slip to the Harley."

I turned to leave, when Alan said, "Hey, don't do that. I don't want your bike."

I just suddenly felt so tired. I just wanted to go crawl into a dark corner and sleep for a week. I didn't even turn to face him. "Yeah. Okay."

I took a step toward the door, but I wasn't going to be that lucky. "Hey, come back here. Talk to me, Gordy."

I turned around and snapped, "Look, I've said I'm sorry. There isn't anything else I can say. Okay? Now just take the bike, and drop it."

"Screw the bike. I don't give a damn about the bike. I do, however, give a damn about this family, and you. Stop being an idiot and come sit down and talk to me. Tell me what happened. Tell me why you're hurting so bad."

I stared at him, waiting for the punch line, but as far as I could see he was totally sincere. I swallowed hard. I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about it. I wasn't sure I could talk about it.

I couldn't look him in the eye. "I'm fine."

"Yeah. Well, talk to me anyway. Come over to my mosh pit." He got up from his desk and went through to his balcony, overlooking Kyrano's gardens. He'd set up what he called his mosh pit when we'd first moved in. It was just a bunch of bean bag chairs and futons, but I had to admit, it was pretty comfortable. We'd sit out here in the middle of the night just chewing the fat.

Alan hit a switch on the wall, and the heavy-duty tarpaulin that protected the area from the island weather pulled back into its holding box. I looked at the colorful bean bags and hesitated. I wasn't really sure I was fit company for anybody.

Alan went to his cooler and pulled out a couple of bottles of RedPop. I had to raise my eyebrows at that. "Where did you get a hold of this?"

Alan started to grin, then winced. That made my own incipient smile fade. He didn't seem to notice as he replied, "Oh, I have my ways. I've got some Moon Mist too, if you'd rather have that."

"No, that's okay." I said, setting the childhood favorite aside. "How's your jaw?"

"Actually, it's not that bad. Brains gave me that bone knitter stuff, and he says it will be fine within a week or so. Once this damn swelling goes down, I'll be able to smile without it bothering me. It was really more of a crack, than a break."

"And where I kicked you?"

"Wanna see?" Alan pulled up his tee shirt before I could stop him. The last thing I needed was more evidence of how big a jerk I'd been. I held my breath as he pointed to his ribs. I couldn't help the frown. There wasn't even a mark.

"You made it sound like I'd broken your ribs."

He shrugged, pulling his shirt back into place. "What can I say? I was peeved."

"I'm really sorry, Al." I said it quietly, but his head came up.

"Yeah, and I'm sorry I made a fuss over it. It's done. Water under the bridge. Okay?"

I looked him in the eye, and I could see he really meant it. After a moment, I nodded. "Okay."

"Good. Now, tell me what happened at that farmhouse."

Did I have a right to burden my brother with what I'd seen there? On the other hand, didn't he have a right to know? God, what a mess. I sighed, and started in. "When we got there, those life signs we'd seen the first time were all gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"Instead of red images, they were all sort of yellowish orange. Like you'd see in someone with hypothermia. That totally freaked out Virgil, and he dropped Two like a rock straight down. Now, the thing was, we could see the woman, because she was the only hot spot in the house, and she heard us coming. I could see her move into this one room, but then she just disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yeah. Like into thin air. Dad said she must have gone into a basement, but you know that imager should have been able to see that. I'm not sure what she did."

"Had to be a trick of some sort."

"Yeah." I nodded my head in agreement, but I didn't really buy it.

"So, you got to the house?" Alan prompted me after a while.

I shook myself, and nodded. "Yeah. Virgil dropped us within 50 feet of the house. We ran up and Virg kicked in the door, and we went in. Dad and Virg went after the woman, and I headed to the room where we knew John and Scott had to be." I swallowed hard. "Alan, it was worse than any horror movie you've ever seen."

Alan asked warily, "Worse, how?"

I had to think about how to explain it. "You remember back home how the wood in the woodshed was stacked all nice and tidy?"

"Remember?" He asked, rolling his eyes. "Gordon, it was so nice and tidy because you and I had to stack it that way. Remember the time when Scott made us go out in the freezing cold and re-do the entire stack, because it wasn't perfect?"

Of course I remembered, but I didn't want to get off track here. I waved Alan's remarks away. "This woman had her own stack. Only, it wasn't wood. It was bodies. Against this one wall, they were stacked just like the wood in the woodshed. There had to be at least 50 or more men in that room."

"But… I thought you'd only dropped off a couple of guys at the hospital."

"They were the only two still breathing besides Scott and John."

"Well, what was Scott doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what was he doing? He had to be trying to save people, right? Him and John, both."

I looked my brother in the eye. "No. Scott and John were just a couple more pieces of wood. They were lying on the top of the other bodies."

Alan was clearly confused. "What the hell did she do to them?"

I took a deep breath. "She mesmerized them."

"Mesmerized? You mean like hypnosis? No way. You can't make a person do anything they wouldn't normally do just by hypnotizing them."

I wished I could have my brother's certainty. I shook my head. "It wasn't like any hypnosis I've ever heard of. Listen, after we got the survivors back to Thunderbird Two, I went back to get the supplies we'd left, but the woman wasn't gone. She caught me."

"Yeah, I heard about that. You're sure you're not going to freak on me, right?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. Either the Hazmat suit, or maybe that drug Brains gave me kept me from falling for it entirely."

"Falling for what?"

"It was like this huge illusion. I was suddenly on this gorgeous white sand beach. I could feel the sun on my face, and the breeze in my hair. I could even smell the damn ocean. I looked through this doorway, and there was this beautiful bed with all of these pillows on it, and suddenly, all I wanted was to go lie down. Then something broke the illusion, and that bed was the pile of bodies. Al, I have no doubt whatsoever that if it weren't for whatever it was that Brains did, I would have gone over and climbed up on that pile and just laid there until I died."

"Shit." Alan swore softly. "So you think that Scott and John thought they were in bed at the beach?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. The illusion seemed to be pretty attuned to me. Johnny probably thought he was in an observatory or something. And who knows what Scott was seeing?"

"So, how did she get all those guys there? I mean, you'd think someone would have noticed if a couple of busloads of guys pull up to a house and disappear."

"No, Al, you're not getting it. She'd been at this for a long time. Some of the bodies at the bottom of the stack were practically skeletons. Most of them had to have been dead for at least weeks, if not months. I think she was bringing them in one at a time, or maybe a couple, but probably not much more than that."

"Hey, you think that might be why Scott and John were able to come home for a while? She had too many live ones to control?"

I hadn't really given it a thought. I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Or maybe she lets them go on purpose, so they'd go back to their families and say they were leaving. To throw off any hunt, maybe."

"You know, we really should go back there. Take her out. If we don't, how many more guys are going to get caught?"

I shook my head vehemently. "Weren't you listening? I was as protected as I could be, and it still wasn't enough. We can't go anywhere near her."

"I wasn't thinking of walking up and shaking her hand, Gordon. I'm thinking a couple of thermite bombs should do it."

I could see he was serious. I got up, and went into his bedroom, and grabbed his laptop and brought it out. I sat back down and started keying.

"What are you doing?" My brother asked.

I didn't look up. "Give me a minute."

I finally accessed the file I wanted, and turned the screen so Alan could see. "This is the thermal image of the farmhouse. This is the woman. Now watch what happens."

Even knowing what to expect, the image of the woman seeming to turn to mist raised a prickle at the back of my neck. "How does your thermite bomb stop that?"

Alan was quiet for a moment. "You're sure there was no basement?"

"Only dirt under the floorboards. Besides, does that look like someone going down steps to you?"

My brother shook his head slowly. "No. But, wait a minute, play it again."

I obliged, again getting that creepy feeling as I watched her disappear. Alan was nodding. "Okay, so, she knew you were coming and she had to bail. Why did she run back into the house? Why didn't she just go poof in the yard?"

I frowned. "I don't know. Maybe she didn't want us to see her do it."

"Maybe. But did you notice, she was just standing there for a good 30 seconds before she disappeared."

"Yeah, so what?"

"So maybe it takes her a little bit of time to do the Houdini thing. We send in silent rockets from 50,000 feet. She doesn't get a warning, and she burns."

I looked at my brother. It could work. I started to nod my head, but then a thought occurred. "Wait, what about the victims? Thermite would reduce everything to ashes. Al, there are a whole lot of guys there whose families deserve closure."

"I know that, but look at it this way. If we don't stop her, she's not going to stop herself. More victims, more families in grief." Alan stopped, and shook his head. "If only we'd been able to rescue more of them when we first went out there."

My throat closed up. "That was my fault."

"Your fault?" My brother laughed grimly. "Dude, if it weren't for you getting hit so quickly, she would have caught us all. You saved our asses."

"But not your jaw?" I smiled tightly.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't using it for much, anyway."

That got a laugh out of me. Alan smiled, this time not wincing. "Okay, so we take the bitch out. Now, what about Scott and John? What do we do about them?"

It all came slamming back down. I know I sounded bitter when I replied, "We let Brains take care of them."

Alan went all still on me, staring hard. I reached over for the soda I had set aside earlier. With a vicious twist, I pulled off the bottle cap, and drained half the bottle in a single swig. I stared off into space, and for a little while, Alan didn't bother me. But it didn't last nearly long enough. "Uh, Gordy, perhaps you'd care to elaborate on that statement?"

"Perhaps not."

"You think John will give you mean eyes again?"

He wasn't going to leave it alone, so I turned to him. "Scott woke up on the flight home. He told Dad he was a pathetic weakling trying to save himself from loneliness by holding on to his kids. He said Mom died because Dad was grasping and greedy."

Alan whistled. "How did Dad take it?"

I shrugged. "About as well as he could. I mean, we both knew it was the woman's influence. He'd never have said anything like that if he'd been in his right mind, right?"

"You trying to convince me or yourself?"

I slumped down in my chair. In a low voice, I said, "He said I should go drown myself."

"Oh hell, is that all? Well, we've all said that at one time or another, Gordy."

"He said I was a cripple that everyone pitied."

That shut my brother up. He just sat there, a shocked look on his face. I emptied the rest of the soda, and got up. "I'm going to go take a shower. I'll see you later."

I walked away. He called after me, but I wasn't in the mood. I made it to my quarters, and locked the door. I leaned back against it, thumping my head back a few times like that would help somehow. I couldn't even say why it bothered me so much. I mean, I knew in my heart that Scott didn't mean it. He didn't look at me as a cripple. Hell, if he really thought that, he'd never let me go out on rescues. Right?

The hell with it. Worrying never did any good anyway. I went in and took my shower, standing under the steaming water until my skin turned red. That was the problem with non-existent smells. You could never tell when you got rid of them. And while the Hazmat suit had kept me from getting any whiff of the stench in that room, I knew it was there. I didn't know if I'd ever be clean enough again.

After a while, standing there dripping didn't make any sense, so I shut off the water, and grabbed a towel. I was in front of the mirror in my bathroom wiping myself down, and I just knew. Annoyed, I peeked around the corner, and sure enough, there was Alan, lounging on my bed. "How the hell did you get in here?"

He looked at me with that near smirk of his. "Through the door."

"The door was locked."

He glanced over at the firmly shut door. "That one was, but the balcony door wasn't."

"Alan, get the hell out of my room."

"Sorry, no can do, bro."

"Either get out, or I'll put you out."

He looked me right in the eye. "Is this you talking, or is it time for another shot?"

"So, what? You're going to throw that up in my face?"

He rolled his eyes. Looking around, he grabbed the shorts I'd pulled out and threw them at me. "I'm not throwing anything in your face. I'm sorry. Things are just a bit weird right now."

I threw my towel at him, but went over to my chest of drawers and pulled out briefs and a tee shirt. Once dressed, I stood over him. "So what's it going to be? You leaving, or am I tossing your homely butt out?"

"I'll be out of your way in a minute. I just have to tell you something."

"Yeah? What?"

"You're an idiot."

"Oh, thank you very much for your insight. Now, get out."

"No, really, Gordy. You're an idiot. You're all worried but you don't need to be. Brains will figure it out. Okay? Stop worrying so much. John and Scott will be fine."

"Thank you Dr. Freud. The door is over there."

Finally he got up from the bed, and walked over to the door, saying as he went. "Okay, you know where I am when you want to talk."

He closed the door behind him, and I slumped down onto the bed. He just didn't get it. I didn't want to talk. Hell, I didn't even want to think about it. I laid down, and hit the window controls, darkening the room despite the bright daylight outside. I got under the covers, and just laid there waiting for sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

I woke suddenly. I rolled over to check the time. It was close to midnight, and the second knock at my door told me why I'd awakened. I got up, rubbing my eyes. I hit the door control, just realizing my mouth had that nasty sleep taste. The door opened revealing my brother, Virgil. "Yeah? What's up?"

"Come on, you're going to want to see this." He padded off down the hallway, fully expecting me to follow him.

I thought about just going beck to bed, but my curiosity was stronger than my need for more sleep, so with a sigh, I followed my brother to the lounge. I was a bit surprised to find Alan, Dad and Grandma, all sitting watching the television. It seemed kind of late to be up.

My attention was quickly caught by the newswoman on the screen. I felt my stomach tighten. The woman was standing in front of several fire trucks, their lights flashing. If it was a rescue, we only had me and Virgil.

I listened to what the woman was saying, automatically noting the Australian accent. "Authorities are now saying that the fire was intended to cover up a multiple murder. There has been no confirmation of the number of bodies, but we've seen a steady stream of ambulances to the site, leaving us to speculate at least ten or more people were found."

The scene cut back to the studio, where the newscaster, picked up some papers, and made a show of straightening them. "That was reporter Tammy Brady, reporting from the scene of a fire outside of West Wyalong, New South Wales. We will be following this story through the night. But for now, we turn to sports…"

Dad hit the remote, turning off the television. Grandma was pale. "Jeff, were there ten bodies there?"

"No, Mother. There were many more than ten. It looks like she's covered her tracks and moved on."

"You don't think this was an accident?" Virgil asked.

I looked at them both, and shook my head, moving over to sit next to my grandmother, who was obviously shocked by my Dad's bald statement. She looked over at me, and lifted her hand to my face. I smiled, and covered her hand with my own. "It's okay, Grandma. We'll be fine."

"Mom, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." Dad stood and came over to sit my Grandma's other side.

"Now, don't you boys worry about me. I'm not made of porcelain. This whole affair is just so… frightening. To think there are monsters like that in the world."

"Don't you worry about it, Mom. I'm going to take care of it."

"How?" Virgil asked.

Dad shook his head. "I won't know until I've tracked her down. I'll get my people on it, the first thing in the morning. But I will not rest until that woman is stopped. Permanently."

I found myself nodding. "Dad, Alan had a thought about how to take her out."

Alan started, then seeing all eyes on him, he nodded. "Gordy and I reviewed the thermal images, and it looked like it took her awhile to do the disappearing act. My idea was to go in with thermite bombs. Hit her hard and fast. Burn her before she can get away."

"Folk lore says a succubus is a demon. You can't kill demons." Virgil said, shaking his head.

My eyebrows went up at that. I supposed that succubus was a convenient term to describe this woman, and how she worked, but I didn't for a moment buy any supernatural origin for her.

It was Grandma who backed up that notion. "Well, Brains should have never used that word. I know it's handy, but it implies a demonic origin, and you all know that demons are not flesh and blood entities. They are the dark creations of the human mind. You'll do well not to forget that, Virgil."

Instead of backing down, Virgil worked his jaw, then shook his head. "Grandma, you weren't there. You didn't see what I saw. You didn't see Gordon go insane just at the woman's look. You didn't see her disappear like a wisp of smoke. You didn't see… that hellhole. You didn't see Scott and John lying on top…"

"That's enough, Virgil," My father barked. "We will not speculate on the supernatural. We will deal with the situation as it is."

Virgil didn't say anything more about it. He just got up and left muttering something about sitting with Scott. Alan and I shared a worried glance. Virgil was the strong silent type, but we could both tell he was having a lot of trouble dealing with this. Al was giving me all sorts of signals to go with him after Virgil, but the problem was that he would have reached the infirmary by now, and there was nothing that would get me to go there.

Dad and Grandma were as adept at reading Alan's signals as I was, and I could feel both sets of eyes on me. I didn't look up at either of them. I was ashamed enough of my unwillingness to face my bed bound brothers without having to see the pity in their eyes. I got up and headed back to my room. "I'm going to go to bed. I'll see you all in the morning."

The good nights floated behind me, and I couldn't tell if I was reading the worry into those voices or not. I made it to my room, and locked the door. Then I strode across the room and locked the balcony door too. I moved over to my bed and sat, but I couldn't bring myself to lie down just yet.

What if Brains couldn't come up with a cure? Surely even if he didn't, the same treatment I'd received would bring my brothers back, wouldn't it? So what was the worst case scenario here? That Scott, John and I would be eunuchs for the rest of our lives? Would that be so bad? I mean, really? As it was, we were practically celibate. Well, John definitely was. He had less opportunity.

But what if the only reason I was better was because I had less exposure to whatever it was that woman had done? What if Scott and John were permanently affected? What if it didn't get any better for them? What would they do? The woman was gone. Would they go back to that farmhouse and just lie in the ashes until they died? Or did she have some hook into them that would make them follow along behind her like fish on a leader?

And what about Virgil? What could we do for him? It was obvious this was affecting him. Hell, it was affecting me, and it had to be affecting Dad, too. But I had Alan to talk to, and Dad had Grandma. Who did Virgil have? Well, he'd just have to rely on Alan and me.

The question was how to get through to him. He took the big brother thing as seriously as Scott did. I'd have to talk to Al in the morning. We'd have to come up with a plan on how to get Virgil talking. Not an easy thing, but we'd done it before, and we could…

Who the hell would be knocking on my door at this hour? I knew who. It had to be Alan. I'd have been seriously annoyed if I hadn't just been thinking about him. I got up and went to the door and opened it. To my surprise, it was Virgil, looking very grim. "What's wrong?"

Virgil walked past me and sat on the bed. After a moment passed and he didn't speak, I said, "Is it Scott? John? Did somebody wake up?"

"No." He sounded deeply exhausted. "Brains thinks that the combination of sedative and cyproterone will help them, but he wants to keep them under for a while to give it a chance to work. He also wants to test you tomorrow. He thinks your reaction to the sensor is significant."

My hand went up to touch the sensor that I had forgotten was there. "Yeah, okay. I'll check in with him in the morning. Are you holding up?"

The minute the words were out of my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to ask. I could practically hear his guard slamming down. "I'm holding up. I'll be better when Scott and John are awake."

I snorted. "Don't bet on it."

He looked at me. I said, "The thing about them is they both know us all so well. You know, all living here together, we don't have too many secrets."

He was staring at me now. But I didn't want to tell him what he wanted to know. "Just don't listen to them, Virg. That's all. Just don't listen."

The sudden pain in his expression told me he already had some idea of what I was talking about. Poor guy was probably dreading what was going to come out of Scott's mouth. I couldn't sit there any more. I stood up and started pacing.

"Hey, easy, kid," he said. "We just have to believe that Brains can get them back for us. You know Brains. He won't give up. And if it takes a month or more, then so be it. But in the end, we'll have our brothers back. You just watch."

I wanted to believe. I really did. But I'd also wanted to believe in the Easter Bunny when I was a kid. Reality didn't always respect our beliefs. I kept pacing. It was like once I'd started I couldn't stop. Virgil just sat on the bed, waiting.

Eventually, I looked over at him, and to my surprise, he was smiling. It was a small smile, but it was definitely there. And to my mind, totally inappropriate. "What are you grinning at?"

"You.," he replied, but he didn't say anything more. Totally annoying.

"What? You laughing at me?"

"No, not at all. I was just enjoying watching you pace. There was a time when I thought I'd never see you walk again."

I snorted. "Well, enjoy the view, then."

I went back to my pacing. Virgil just sat for a few minutes watching me. I considered telling him to go watch someone else, but he'd probably refuse, then we'd have a fight, and I was just too tired for that.

"You know, I really didn't think you'd get up out of that wheelchair. I thought Dad and Scott were in denial. I thought you'd give up. I didn't realize how tough you were."

What? "What do you mean? I was in W.A.S.P. for God's sake. They didn't take weaklings, Virgil."

"True. I never had a doubt about your physical strength. I just didn't think you were tough enough."

"You have to be kidding me. Did you think I just got that Olympic gold for my looks? I worked hard and long for that medal. From the time I was thirteen, I was up at four every morning 24/7 to workout. I'm sure you were there, Virgil. I remember seeing you once in a while. Did you think it was easy? Did you think I didn't like sleeping or something? Geezus!"

Virgil shook his head, holding up his hands. "Actually, I did. You made it all look so effortless. You never complained, you never just slept in. And damn, kid, in the water, you're like a damn dolphin. I just never got it. But then, there was that day when you just stood up. I could see how it hurt. How you wanted nothing more than to just sit back down. But you didn't . That's when I realized you had more to you than I had ever given you credit for."

"You should have had a little faith."

"You're right. I should have. But, you know, I learned my lesson. I'll never doubt your toughness again. And I sure as hell won't doubt either Scott or John. And neither should you."

That stopped me. I looked over at him. He stared back, and damn, if I didn't feel better. I nodded. "Yeah. You're right. Thanks, Virg. That really puts it in perspective."

"Anytime." He started to get up.

Wait a minute… "Aw crap. I was supposed to be cheering you up, not the other way around."

"What?"

"Alan and I figured you needed to talk to someone about this, and with Scott and John down, it had to be either Alan or me."

"You and Alan figured that out from the depths of your training in psychology?"

"Yup. We're both great students of the human mind, you know."

"Because you have aspirations of getting one someday?"

"You're just jealous of my perspicacity."

Virgil leaned back and crossing his arms, cocked an eyebrow. "Spell it, then I'll be jealous."

" your Ass I T Y."

My brother snorted, a small smile on his face. But his eyes really gave him away. I sat down next to him again. "Believe what you told me, Virg. They're going to be okay."

"Yeah. I know. It's the 'until then' that has me worried. You know, I'm not crazy about the idea of having Scott or John ripping on me, but if I'm not in there, Grandma will be. She doesn't need this kind of crap."

I rubbed my hand over my face. "Yeah. Okay, I'll tell you what, you and I can do shifts. I mean, what more can Scott say to me, right?"

There went the eyebrow again. "Really. Is this the same guy who disappeared the minute we got them home?"

"Hey, somebody had to clean up Two. Oh, and re-set her systems, too."

"You did the re-set? Did you remember to run the flush diagnostics? And the compression tests?"

"Yes. And the step down, and the control run and the blinky light thing. I did it all, Virgil."

I got a little bit sarcastic with it, but all he did was smile. "Thank you."

You know, there's really nothing in the world that is quite as disarming as one of your brothers saying thanks and meaning it. I just ducked my head and pulled a face. "It's my ship too, you know."

He reached over and patted me on the head like a damn dog. "That's right, Gordon, it's your ship, too," He said patronizingly.

I pushed his hand away, with a grin. "Okay, so how do you want to break up the shifts?"

His look became speculative. "I haven't had any sleep. Can you take the overnight shift? I'll relieve you after breakfast."

"Sure, no problem. Give me fifteen minutes to get dressed and grab something from the kitchen." I said it lightly but my stomach had plummeted to the floor. God, I didn't want to do this. But Virgil was right. If I didn't, Grandma would, and I didn't want her to face Skippy.

"All right, I'm headed for bed. And Gordon? Thanks. I really do feel a lot better."

"Yep. It all was according to my plan."

With a laugh, Virgil left my room. I skinned out of the shorts I'd been wearing and pulled on jeans. Then I grabbed a heavy fisherman's sweater. Brains always kept his labs and the infirmary cool for reasons of his own. The sweater would keep me comfortable, but it also felt a little like protection, if you know what I mean.

I left my room and headed for the kitchen. I only got a few steps before Alan's door opened, and he popped his head out. "How did it go?"

No point in pretending I didn't know what he was talking about. "Okay. He gave me some insight. It helped me, but it helped him too."

"Well, where are you going?"

"I missed dinner. I'm hungry."

He nodded. "Okay, I'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah. Good night." I said as I resumed my journey to the kitchen.


	24. Chapter 24

I considered just grabbing a quart of ice cream or something, but there was a note on the refrigerator door that told me there was something for me in the oven. Curious, I went over and opened the oven door. A slight warmth lifted to my face and I saw a white insulated container. When I opened it, I found chicken and dumplings.

It made my mouth water. But mindful of my commitment to Virgil, instead of digging right it, I closed it back up again and set it on the counter. I grabbed a mason jar from the cupboard and poured myself some milk. I had to hunt to find the potato chips. I think Grandma hid them from me on purpose, but finally I spotted them.

With all of the components of a good late night dinner, I headed for the infirmary. I opened the door with barely any hesitation and walked in. Damn. Maybe I should of hesitated. Sitting in a chair between John and Scott's bed was my Grandma, her eye right on the potato chip bag.

"Uh, okay, Grandma, I'm here to relieve you. You can go get some rest."

She continued to give me the evil eye. But instead of the lecture that I expected, she just got up and turned first to Scott, then to John, smoothing their hair and placing a kiss on their foreheads. I kind of just stood there holding my dinner. She came up to me, and looked pointedly at the chips. I was still trying to come up with some clever remark, when she sighed, shaking her head, and with a quick caress of my cheek, left the room.

I stood there staring after her, not sure if I should worry about the fact that she didn't give me heck. Things were so screwed up. I finally shook my head, and went over to the chair. I pulled up a rolling bed table, and set down the container and the chip bag.

I took a swig of milk, and opened the container. It smelled wonderful, and I couldn't wait to dig in. But first, the perfect topping. I opened up the bag of chips and grabbed a big handful, and crumpled them over the chicken and dumplings. I looked at it and judiciously grabbed a second handful.

I couldn't really say where I picked up the potato chips on my chicken habit. I just knew the crunch offset by the creaminess of the stew was just about the best thing in the world. Grandma didn't like it because she said it implied a problem with her cooking. And it was too much sodium. That's why she'd hide the potato chips whenever she made chicken and dumplings.

Of course, she'd also hide the catsup every chance she got, especially in the mornings. We all liked catsup on our eggs. And on meatloaf. And on pot roast. And John would put it on green beans, much to Grandma's horror.

Once I'd scooped up every bite of the chicken and dumplings, I sat back with my milk, and the potato chips, and just snacked for a while. It was all quiet in the room, except for the muted beeps of the medical beds. To my relief, neither Scott nor John showed any signs of waking up.

After a while, it was too quiet. I was afraid I might fall asleep, so I went over to the desk in the corner, and booted up the computer there. It only took a moment to bring up the W.A.S.P homepage. I signed in, and started reading the bulletins and updates there. I still had clearance for a lot of stuff, although not for the most interesting things. Still, it was better than nodding off.

I'd finished with the W.A.S.P. bulletins and moved on to one of my favorite marine research sites when I heard a grunt coming from one of the beds. It was John. I took a deep breath and got up to deal with him. I moved to his bed, and hiding my trepidation, said, "Hey, you're awake. You want some water or something?"

He nodded, smacking his lips trying to get some spit going. I reached over to the bedside table, and got the water carafe. It was empty. "Back in a minute."

I got the water, and a glass with a straw, the whole time waiting for the explosion that didn't come. When I returned to his bedside, my brother looked just like he always did in the morning. A little glassy-eyed with sleep, but overall, fairly alert. I held the glass so he could get a sip.

That was when he realized that he was strapped down. I tried to be casual, but I was pretty tense. I knew he was going to go ballistic at some point, I just didn't know when. To my surprise, he frowned a bit, took another sip of water, then leaned back against the pillows. "What's with the straps?"

The calmness had to be a good sign, right? "They're for your protection."

"Protection?" John frowned. "Okay, I think you'd better tell me what's going on."

I was still watching him like a hawk. I tried a stalling tactic. "Well, what's the last thing you remember?"

The frown was back, but this time it was thoughtful. "Uh, I went to Isaac Weinstein's wedding. I met a girl… I think." John shook his head. "I remember flying home. That was what, this morning?"

"No. That was a few days ago."

"Oh, God, tell me I didn't crash the jet."

"No, you didn't crash the jet." I saw him start to relax a bit. "You did much worse."

His attention was on me now. I couldn't see any sign of the crazed euphoria, and he was still calm, though a tad anxious at my remark. "Don't keep me guessing, Gordon. What did I do?"

"You upset Grandma. You yelled at her. She was crying."

I was relieved to see the upset in my brother's eyes at this news. If he was still on the wacko drug, he wouldn't have reacted this way. "Are you serious? I yelled at her?"

I nodded. "And you pushed her."

"No. No, I wouldn't do that. You're teasing me. Knock it off." John was shaking his head in denial. I could see that he wanted me to be teasing. I could also see that he knew in his heart that I wasn't.

"I know you wouldn't, but you were sick. You had an infection. Made you nuts. That's what the straps are for."

"Infection? What kind of infection?"

"You sure you want to know?"

"Gordon. Talk to me."

I looked him in the eye. I can't describe the relief I felt at having my brother back. I nodded, and pulled the chair up beside the bed. "Okay, first off, you gotta understand that none of this makes a lot of sense. Just hear me out."

John had on a worried frown, but he shook his head. "Wait, before you start, let me up. I have to take a leak."

I froze for a moment, wondering if I'd misjudged the situation. I swallowed and said cautiously. "Sorry, it's not my call. Besides you're on a catheter."

I waited to see how he'd react. He frowned and lifted his head as if trying to see the catheter, but then laid back again. "I hate those things."

"Yeah, I know."

"Okay, so what is it that isn't going to make sense?"

I relaxed again. This must have been what Grandma had been feeling when she saw me in the hallway. I wanted him to be all right, but I couldn't help being jumpy around him. "Okay, so you did meet a woman, or so we thought at the time. You really liked her, and you snuck out to go meet her the day you got home, even though you weren't feeling good. The next day, you were even sicker, and when Grandma tried to help you, you blew up at her, and then you ran off to go back to the woman."

John shook his head. "I don't remember any of this."

"Yeah, I know. So, anyway, the next day Scott went out after you, but when he came home, he said you were fine, and that the woman was someone really special, and that if you hadn't met her first, he would have made a play for her."

John's eyebrows went up. "So, she was special?"

"Yup. But here's the thing… the next day, Scott was just as sick as you had been. Brains took some blood, and Dad sent me up in Thunderbird Three to get Alan."

"You flew Three?"

"Yes." I responded a bit warily.

John tried to be casual about it. "Any problems?"

I sat back and crossed my arms. "Like what?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Like you plowing into Thunderbird Five."

Oh, he must be sick to give me an opening like that. "I didn't plow, exactly. And I'm sure once you're better you can fix it all up eventually."

John wouldn't be John if he fell for something like that. He just nodded. "Okay, then. As long as no plowing was involved. So, you got Alan from Five. Then what?"

"We had a rescue. Nothing serious, just a dam that needed patching. But when we got home, Dad jumped Virgil and asked him if he knew where Scott was. He was supposed to be resting in his room, but when Dad checked he was gone. Virgil told him that Scott had gone off to hook up with you and the woman. Then Brains said that Scott's blood test showed some drug that was a hallucinogenic."

"Okay, hold that thought. Gordon, unstrap my hand, I have an itch."

"Where? I'll scratch it for you."

He gave me that John look. "You are not scratching me there. You will never scratch me there. Now, come let me loose. Just one hand. What could it hurt?"

I knew what it was like to have an itch you couldn't scratch, and as far as I could tell, John was back to being himself. And besides, like he said, what could one hand hurt? I had more upper body strength that he did, and he was weak from the drugs. With a nod, I went over and released his right hand.

I watched him carefully as he reached under the covers and gave himself a good scratch. So far, so good. He reached for the water glass and took another sip before putting it back on the table and turning his attention back to me. "Thanks, Gordy. Now, you were saying there was a drug."

"Yeah, Brains couldn't identify it, but he said it was raising up Scott's testosterone to crazy levels, and that it had a hallucinogenic component to it. We were all freaked out. I mean, what are the odds that both you and Scott would go AWOL at the same time?"

"As opposed to, say, you and Alan?"

"Hey, no, this was serious. Dad was thinking security was compromised. We figured that this woman was a spy of some kind, and that she had you guys in a dungeon or something. Virgil, Alan and I tracked you guys to this rundown farm in the outback. We weren't sure how the woman managed to drug you, so we were being careful. We were only going to do a recon, then see about rescuing you."

"Yeah? So, what happened?"

"We were wearing the distort camo, and heading to the house, when the woman came out… and I apparently went bonkers."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, from what I was told, the woman looked in my direction, and all of the sudden, I was stripping off the camo to try to go to her. Alan tried to stop me, and I apparently clocked him. Broke his jaw. Virg had to use a trank gun to bring me down."

"She looked at you."

"That's what they say. Brains thinks it was something in the air, but it didn't affect either Alan or Virgil, it only affected me."

"Crap. Then what happened?"

"They got me home, and I guess when I woke up from the tranquilizer, I was a trifle rude. I apparently told Virgil and Brains that I was in love with the woman, and if they didn't let me go to her I would kill them. I was strapped down just like you, or I probably would have tried to hurt someone."

John raised his hand to scratch his nose. "But you got better, right?"

"Yeah, Brains gave me some drugs that are counteracting whatever it is that the woman used. Hopefully, he'll come up with a permanent cure."

John nodded. "So what happened with the woman?"

"Dad, Virgil and I went back to rescue you and Scott. We wore full Hazmat gear, and were pumped full of Brains' drugs. Johnny, we found you guys in a room full of dead men that this woman had killed. At least fifty guys. And if we had waited a day more, you two would probably have been dead, too."

"Why?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"What was the woman's motive? Why was she killing guys?"

"Oh, um, this is the really crazy part. Brains is saying she was a succubus."

"A succubus. Like out of a horror flick?"

"Yes."

"So she was sucking the life force out of me? That's what you're saying?"

"Look, I don't know what she was doing. All I know is you and Scott were practically dead, and there wasn't a mark on you."

"But I'm better now, right?"

I shrugged. "I hope so, Johnny."

He nodded, then settled back on the bed. "I think I'll just sleep for a while."

"Yeah, okay. You do that. I'll be right here, if you need me."

John closed his eyes, and settled down. I started to move back to the computer, when I got this prickle. I looked back at my brother, but he seemed to be resting. Instead of feeling reassured, the prickle was getting worse.

I couldn't even tell you exactly what it was that was bothering me. I just knew something was not right. Seriously not right. I ran our conversation over in my mind, and I realized that not once had John asked about Scott. Not once.


	25. Chapter 25

I was staring hard at my brother, but as far as I could see, he was just lying there with his eyes closed. I wished I could believe that he was sleeping, but I knew he wasn't. I licked my lips. He had the one hand loose, and I knew I had to get it strapped back down.

I was confident that I was stronger, but I didn't really want to have to fight him, maybe hurt him, to get the job down. Without taking my eyes off of him, I moved to the desk, and picked up Brains' clipboard. With a quick glance, I determined that I could safely administer additional sedative.

If I could just get it in the port before he realized I knew what he was up to, I could stand back until the drug took effect, then get the hand strapped down without any problem. The issue would be how to get the drug in the port, which was hanging from an infusion bag within John's line of sight.

I moved as quietly as I could to the drug cabinet. With my back to him, I prepared the syringe. I took a deep breath, and turned around. I'd made the move sudden, and sure enough, I saw the flicker of eyelids that told me he'd been watching.

I walked over between the two beds and made a show of checking on Scott. My eldest brother was still deeply asleep, for which I was truly thankful. I turned around to face John's bed, and pretended to straighten the blanket. He was still playing possum, so I reached up to slide the syringe into the port.

That's when he moved, snake fast, grabbing at me with both hands. He'd taken advantage of my turned back to release his other hand, and with one he grabbed my shirt, and pulled me close, while the other struck up at my neck. If I hadn't known he was up to something, that blow could have seriously damaged me. As it was, I pulled back just enough to keep him from crushing my larynx. Still hurt like hell, but I was too busy trying to stop him to worry about it.

I grabbed his shoulders, and slammed him back down on the bed. He was hampered by the straps at his waist and his legs, while I was hampered by my need to stop him without hurting him. John felt no such need, and he got his hand around my throat and started choking me. I broke his hold, and used my entire body weight to pin him to the bed.

Until that moment, the fight had been eerily silent. But then John started cursing me. In several languages. I just held on, trying to think of a way to end it. I could see the syringe lying on the floor where I had dropped it, but the needle was obviously bent, making it useless. If I let John loose, he'd use those hyper-reflexes of his to get the straps undone before I could get another syringe ready.

I couldn't just stay where I was, lying on top of him. He was biting, and scratching, and doing his best to hurt me. Doing a pretty good job of it, too. I looked around, getting a bit frantic about it. One of John's hands had latched onto my groin, and he was doing his damnedest to see to it that I wouldn't have to worry about future generations.

I was thinking I was going to have to just beat the crap out of him, when the door to the infirmary opened up, and there was Alan. "Geezus!"

"Uh, Al, can you… get… a sedative for me? And hurry?"

Alan ran to the drug cabinet. John in the meantime was basically going beserk. He clawed at my face, and stabbed at my ribs with his hand. I was breathing hard, trying to resist the temptation to retaliate. He was my brother. He was sick. Yeah, and he was trying to rip my eyes out.

Alan came up with the syringe. "Grab his arm, Gordy, and I'll inject him."

Easier said than done. I said I was stronger than John? Maybe so, but he had a wiry strength that was hard to contain. I finally, shifted my whole body up onto his face, and grabbed the arm. Thank God, Al was fast, because I couldn't have held him much longer.

Once the drug was in, I bailed, hopping of f the bed and my brother, who was still calling me names. As soon as I was off of him, he pulled himself up, and frantically scrabbled his hands on the hard leather restraining belts. Alan looked at me, but I shook my head, waving him off. John managed to get his waist and one of his legs free before the sedative stopped him.

He sort of flopped over, still cursing, his hands making weak little ineffectual moves. Alan and I stood back and waited until the hands and the cursing stopped before moving in and gently putting him back to bed. We got the straps fastened before either of us said a word. "How did he get loose?"

I shook my head wearily. "He tricked me. I thought he was okay. Hell, I wanted him to be okay. When he said he just wanted to scratch, I unstrapped his hand. Even then, he was all right. But then I realized that even though I told him Scott was sick too, he never asked about it. It was as if Scott didn't even exist, for all the concern John showed. I decided to sedate him so I could get him secured, but he realized what I was doing, and then it was on."

"Your throat is bruising up."

"Screw the throat. He got a hold of the family jewels."

Alan winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"Big time." I moved gingerly over to the desk. Sitting down didn't have any appeal for me. "What are you doing up?"

Alan shrugged. "Jaw's bothering me. Thought I'd get a painkiller."

I nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. I think I'll join you."

We moved over to the drug cabinet. "You want me to take the rest of your shift? You want to go lie down?"

I would have liked nothing more, but I'd promised Virgil. "No, I'll be okay. It's all just bruising. Oh, and a few bite marks."

I pulled up my sleeve. Sure enough, there were tooth-shaped impressions along the underside of my arm. Alan wrinkled his nose. "He bit you?"

"Yes, and he scratched me too. He fights like a damn girl."

"You should have decked him."

"Like I did you? I don't think so."

"Hey, you got lucky with me. I was caught off guard."

"Yeah, well, one jaw a week is my limit," I said to his snort. "I just didn't want to hurt him, you know? It's not his fault."

"Yeah. It's a good thing I showed up when I did. You would have not hurt him to your death from the looks of it."

"Ain't that the truth. What do you suppose a eudrilus eugeniae would be?"

"A what?"

I shrugged. "Johnny is very creative in his name calling. That's just one of them. I don't know if I even pronounced it right."

Alan shook his head, a wry grin on his face. "You know, he told me once that if you used the Latin name for things you could cuss people out, and they'd never know it."

I smiled. "Only John. Okay, you better hit the sack. I'll see you in the morning."

"You're sure you're okay? You want me to stay up with you?"

Knowing he meant well, I refrained from a smart remark. "No, I'm fine. Go."

With a glance at our sleeping brothers, Alan nodded and left the room. I sat rather gingerly at the computer desk. I was pretty much sore all over. I might accuse John of fighting like a girl, but I sure hoped to hell I never ran into a girl that could hurt me like that.

It was hard to get comfortable. I squirmed around for a while, then remembered that rubber pillow thing we'd gotten when Dad had an issue with hemorrhoids. I started looking through cupboards, but didn't have any luck. Finally I got smart, and went to the computer to bring up the medical inventory. Took a while, but I finally found it listed under doughnut pillow, which made sense. With the inventory number, I was able to go right to it.

It helped, thank God. I was able to sit at the desk, but you know how when things are quiet, you can feel every little ache and pain? It was like that in spades. A little ease to my injured manhood meant all the other bruises could clamor for attention.

I pulled up my shirt for a look, and sure enough, there were bruises forming all along my ribcage. There was no broken skin, and I could tell it was just bruising, no breaks or anything. I had a fleeting thought that maybe John was going easy on me, but then, I moved the wrong way, and pain flared, and that thought just naturally died.

Well, there wasn't a lot I could do about it. I'd taken a mild painkiller, and hopefully it'd kick in soon. I went back to the marine website where I had been looking at an article on a new species of tube worm discovered near an underwater volcanic vent. It had been interesting before, but now I couldn't really concentrate. I finally gave up and pulled up a mindless matching game.

I had been playing computer games for a couple of hours, and still feeling every little bruise, when the door to the infirmary opened, and my dad popped his head in. He barely noticed me as he stared over at my brothers. "Not awake, huh?"

"No."

"Alright, son, I'm going to go get some coffee, then I'll take over here, and you can catch a couple hours of sleep."

"Okay, Dad."

I was a bit surprised, but also relieved to find it was after 5a.m. I figured when Dad came back, I'd take one of the heavy duty painkillers and hit the rack. It wasn't like we could actually go out on a rescue. Not with 80 per cent of the team sidelined. Yeah, I was willing to count myself among the walking wounded. At least for this morning, anyway.


	26. Chapter 26

Just as I was starting to get restless waiting for my dad, the alert klaxon went off. Damn it. Well, it wasn't as if I could ignore it. I got up to head for the lounge, when I heard a grunt. "Wha'ss going on?"

Scott. Well, he'd just have to wait until someone was free to talk. I didn't say a word, but just headed out the door. I got to the lounge at the same time as Virgil and Alan. Dad was behind the desk, looking worried. "Boys, we have a call. A major refinery fire in Iran. They've got people trapped."

"I'll take Thunderbird One, Father." Alan piped up, and headed for the entryway.

"Not so fast, son. You're not going. Virgil, the decision is yours. If you think that you and Gordon can handle it on your own, then we'll go. But if you have any doubts, say so now, and I'll send our regrets."

God, he made it sound like some kind of social bash. Virgil looked me in the eye and asked, "Are you with me?"

"Absolutely." Yeah, I know I said I was going to bail, but when there are lives on the line, what can you do?

Virgil turned to my dad. "We're good to go, Dad."

"Dad, let me go with them. I know I'm not fit for any heavy duty, but I can still man mobile control. Run interference with the local authorities." Alan said firmly. Damn, I was proud of him. A year or so ago, he would have whined, demanded, and finally thrown a tantrum. Now, he was just as mature as any of us.

Dad seemed to consider it, but then shook his head. "No, son. We'll let your brothers handle it, and keep you in reserve. Get going, boys. I'll get you details as quickly as I can."

Virgil and I both hustled away. I thought of something, and stopped and called back. "Dad, just so you know, the alert woke Scott up. You might want to send Brains or someone in to keep an eye on him."

I saw a glimmer of hurt, quickly covered, in my dad's eyes. Alan apparently saw it, too. "I'll go, Dad."

Alan headed for the infirmary as I boarded my elevator. Funny, but the bruises weren't bothering me a bit. I made to the hangar floor, and trotted across to Thunderbird Two, boarding her just as the pod conveyor started up. I headed up ship to the lockers. I made sure I got my heavy duty jock strap. I was going to need it.

Virgil already had Two on her way to her launch point when I entered the cockpit. As usual, he had already changed into his uniform. I sat down and started buckling up, wishing I'd brought the doughnut pillow, when I noticed my brother had gone still. I looked up to see him staring at me, a frown on his face. "What?"

"Your neck's bruised. I thought it was the light in the lounge, but that's definitely bruising."

"Johnny got loose last night. It's nothing." I turned away from him, checking my boards. Virgil stared for a moment more before turning to his own. Once we hit the launch point, Dad gave us flight clearance before Virgil could formally ask.

Taking off had always slammed me into my seat. It was a whole other experience when I was hurting down below. But there was nothing to do but grit my teeth and bare it. Soon enough, we reached cruising height and speed, and the ache lessened.

I debated telling Virgil about it. If I did, he might try to mollycoddle me, and that could create friction at the site. On the other hand, if I didn't tell him, and it got worse, it could affect my performance, and cause me to miss something crucial. That could cost lives. Damn.

"Virg, just so you know, when John got loose, he managed to grab my crotch. I'm pretty sore down there."

Virgil looked startled for a split second, but then a smirk covered his face. Not exactly the response I was expecting. But then, with Virgil, you never knew. He was so incredibly responsible most of the time that you couldn't tell what would tickle his funny bone.

I glared at him. "It's not funny, you know."

"Johnny the crotch monkey? Oh, yes, it is."

Well, yeah, when he put it like that, I had to admit it had tremendous harassment potential. I sat back mulling it over, and after a few moments, I realized why Virgil's crack had made me feel better. It wasn't the thought of the teasing that we could subject John to. It was the fact that Virgil assumed there would be an opportunity to do it. He really believed that Scott and John could be fixed.

"Base to Thunderbird Two, standby for coordinate feed."

"Thunderbird Two, FAB."

Both Virgil and I watched the feed come in. Iran was yet another fun country. The government had struggled for years with religious fundamentalists, and finally, a military coup had clamped down and basically just cut the entire country off from the rest of the world.

Their only claim to wealth had been extensive oil fields, but as alternative energy sources had gained ground, the world demand for petroleum products had nose-dived, and a whole series of Middle Eastern oil dependent states had gone from great wealth to utter poverty in less than a generation.

Iran had suffered catastrophically from the double calamity of military dictatorship and waning resources. The last time we'd had a rescue in that country, we'd spent more time clearing out stowaways than on the actual rescue. It had been tough to turn away those desperate people, but as Scott had said at the time, we had to abide by the country's laws in case we ever needed to return for another rescue.

Once the feed was complete, the monitor started giving up facts and figures about the danger zone. I had to frown. "Naybandan Wildlife Refuge? Who puts a refinery in the middle of a wildlife refuge?"

Virgil just shook his head in bemusement. "Thunderbird Two to base, coordinate feed received, time to danger zone two hours, fifty three minutes."

"Understood, Thunderbird Two. There's a major storm front over Indonesia, I recommend getting above it. Sending telemetry now."

Virgil frowned over the weather sat info. "I agree, Father. Climbing to 100,000 feet."

Oh goody. High flight. Well, at least we wouldn't have to use the windshield wipers. I checked to make sure the boards were clear, then said, "I'll go get Firefly prepped."

Virgil grunted an acknowledgement, his mind fully on his controls. I slipped out of my seat and headed for the pod. Well, eventually, I headed for the pod. First I detoured to the medical bay to get some aspirin. I didn't dare take anything stronger, and in truth, with the rescue on my mind, the pain from my bruises was more of an annoyance than anything else.

When I got into the pod, I headed for the Hazmat suit locker. I had given Virgil's suit a once over after we'd rescued Scott and John, but I wanted to be sure I hadn't missed anything. I still felt like I had lost two brothers, and I was going to be damn sure I didn't lose another.

As soon as I had the suits squared away, I headed for the Firefly. To the untrained eye, the Firefly looked pretty much like a bulldozer. But she was really much more than that. Sure, she had a 'dozer blade up front, but she also carried tanks of one of Brains' special chemical firefighting foams. She could withstand heat up to 5000 degrees without the operator breaking a sweat. And she was pretty.

I already knew she was in tip top shape. I'd seen to that myself a few days earlier when I had replaced some of her tracks. Nevertheless, I climbed aboard and ran the diagnostics on her systems. I really liked the layout of her cockpit. As well I should, because Brains had used TB4's cockpit as a template. All of the controls were positioned just right.

Of course, with Virgil around, there wasn't a bat's chance in hell that I'd get to operate her. My brother had been in love with big machines since he was a kid. In fact, the only time he had ever gotten into trouble with the law was when he was fourteen, and just couldn't resist breaking into a bulldozer on a construction site, and taking it for a spin.

It was only the fact that he had completed clearing a bunch of debris off the site that had kept him from landing up in Juvie. The construction company owner and the site foreman had both refused the press charges, and Virgil had landed up with a part time job for the summer.

After I cleared the Firefly for duty, I got to work on the Rugrats. These were large tanks of that firefighting foam that were mounted on ATV chassis. They were handled by a control car, and would be responsible for a lot of the in close fire suppression work.

Getting all of that done took me a couple of hours. I called up to the flight deck to get an update. "Virg, I've got everything set down here. Do you need me to do anything else before I come back up?"

"Yeah, listen, did you set up the rescue basket?"

The rescue basket? Why on earth…? "Uh, no. You think we're going to need it?"

"From what Dad says, yeah, we are. Go ahead and get it ready. E.T.A is in fifty-four minutes."

All righty then. The rescue basket at a refinery fire. That was a first. You didn't usually get people trapped in a refinery fire. Either they were far enough away to run, or they were crispy critters. Any place they would be trapped wouldn't normally require a rescue basket dropped from above. More like a hands on debris removal to get to the victim. But if Virgil wanted a rescue basket, who was I to object?

Finally I reckoned we were as prepared as we were likely to get, so I headed upship to the flight deck. I slid into my seat, and automatically checked the boards. "So, what's up with the rescue basket?"

Virgil shook his head in exasperation. "It seems our victims are in the center of a ring of fire. These people have no concept of safety. The fire started in one tank, and before they knew it, it had leapt from tank to tank and the entire refinery is involved."

Huh? "How could a fire go from one tank to another?"

"Idiots had major trunk lines running from one to the other is how. No back pressure valves, nothing. The whole place is an inferno, with about 20 workers caught right in the middle."

I blinked. The only refineries I had experience with were in the United States and other highly regulated countries. There were safety redundancies built into every aspect of the plants, and triple redundancies where the tanks were concerned.

"Look," My brother said quietly.

I looked out the windshield. On the horizon was a gigantic plume of black smoke. It seemed to cover half the horizon with an inky blackness. I couldn't help the low whistle that escaped me. Something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I turned to see a formation of jets off our starboard wing. "Uh, Virg, who's the company?"

"World Navy. Things have been happening."

I waited for an explanation, but my brother stayed quiet. I could see his tension in the deathgrip he had on the control column. Oh, no. No way was I going into this blind. "What kind of things, Virgil?"

I'd put a touch of steel in my voice, and my brother reacted to that, if nothing else. "The Iranians aren't interested in the lives at risk. They just want us to knock down the fire. When Dad told them our mission was to save lives, the Iranians said if we tried to leave the danger zone before the fire was out, they'd blow us out of the sky. That's when Dad called in the calvary. These guys were the closest. I understand we'll have other escorts as soon as they get here."

I swallowed hard. "What are the Iranians saying now?"

"I don't know. Dad said he'd contact us as soon as he has anything to report."

I couldn't help but think this wasn't going to end well. There wasn't much to say, so I kept my trap shut. At the speed we were going, the black smoke plume soon became all encompassing. I noticed our escort peeled off before we got too close. I couldn't blame them. The heat rising from the fire was fierce, and soon, Virgil had his hands full trying to keep us level.

We burst through the veil of smoke, and to my surprise, the air cleared. We were literally in a ring of fire. But it wasn't really as bad as I expected. The tanks were spread over an area of about two square miles, and so far, it was only the tanks on the perimeter that had gone up.

Near a helicopter landing pad in the center of the complex, we could see about a dozen people all waving frantically at us. Virgil voiced what I was thinking. "What the hell?"

It was very strange. While the fire was fierce, there was no reason why a standard helijet couldn't have come in here and evacuated these people. And where were the first responders? As far as I could see, there wasn't a single fire truck in evidence.

"You know, Virg, I think a bad feeling about this situation is in order."

"I think you're right. Hang on." Virgil contacted base. "Dad, there's something fishy going on here. This is more of a tank farm than a refinery. The tanks are spread all over the landscape. About 15 of them are burning, and there's a ground fire from the lines, but there's not enough here to warrant our help. A decent fire fighting team could keep it from spreading, and the so-called victims aren't really in any immediate danger. But the local responders have yet to put in an appearance, and I don't know why not. It seems pretty suspicious."

"Son, I haven't been all that happy with the way the authorities have been badgering me. Seems they don't give a damn about the people, they just want the fire knocked down. I haven't been able to get much more than that out of them. It's your call, Virgil. If you honestly feel those people aren't in danger, then call it off. I'll back you one hundred per cent."

I didn't like this. I didn't like this at all. It just went against the grain to leave victims behind, and as I monitored them, they were acting pretty damn panicked. And if the authorities wanted the fire knocked down, where the hell were they?

I tried scanning the area, to see if maybe we had somehow missed where the fire fighters were working, but except for the dozen or so frantic people at the helipad, the entire complex appeared deserted. Could the wacko military junta actually be thinking about taking Thunderbird Two? I hoped not, because this could get… what the hell?


	27. Chapter 27

"Uh, Virg, look over there. Is that what I think it is?"

Virgil frowned and looked where I was pointing. "Oh, for God's sake."

Guess that answered my question. Over to one side, frighteningly near the burning tanks was a 'tank' that wasn't a tank. It had the distinctive shape of a nuclear cooling tower. It had been decked out with a covering that would make it look like just another storage tank to satellite imaging, but the basic shape, from this point of view, was unmistakable.

Kinda explained the panic on the ground. If the fire reached the tower, the cooling system would be damaged, and if they were lucky there'd only be a meltdown. The effort to hide it implied that they might be working on something illicit, like oh, say, nuclear weapons? If that were the case, there could be an even bigger disaster in the making.

I shook my head. "You know, it'd serve them right if we just flew away."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "It's a nature preserve, Gordon. This place blows, and who knows how many species go extinct."

I couldn't help but grin. Virgil knew I wasn't serious, and he was using my reputation as the family tree hugger against me. "You cut me there, bro. Cut me to the quick."

Virgil snorted and opened up a line to base. "Base, we've figured out the problem. Seems the Iranians have been hiding a nuclear station here. It's close to the fire line, and we're going to have to stay to prevent a nuclear disaster."

Dad sucked in a sharp breath. After a few moments, he said, "Understood. That gives me some leverage to get the Iranians to send in their own people. Get the survivors out of there, and then I want a full assessment of the danger."

"FAB." Virgil shut down the line then looked over at me with some speculation. "Are you up-to-date on your training?"

I knew what he was asking. Virgil and Scott both had real training as nuclear technicians. Al, John and I had enough training to tag along and do whatever it was that our big brothers needed. "Yeah, refresher was just a couple of months ago. I'm good to go."

He nodded. "Okay. Well, for now, we'll just land and pick those guys up, okay? You have a holding area set up?"

"Yup. You staying up here?"

"Yeah. None of those guys look injured. Unless you think you'll need me for crowd control?"

"Naw, I remember the last time and I've got everything locked down tight. These guys aren't going anywhere except where I tell them." I got up and headed for the hatch.

"Keep in touch."

"FAB."

I headed down to the pod. By the time I got to the holding area, Virgil had already set us down, and had Two rising up on her struts. The pod had a ramp door that covered most of one end of it, but I had no intention of opening that up, and letting these people in with all of our equipment.

Instead, I headed to a much smaller side hatch. I opened it up to stifling heat and the stench of burning oil. Unpleasant, but not life threatening. As I expected, none of the dozen or so victims were in sight. I hopped down onto the tarmac, and headed to the rear of the pod. I turned the corner to find the entire group of survivors starting anxiously at the big ramp door.

I shook my head at the sight. Every one of them was within touching distance of the ramp, totally oblivious to the fact that if it opened, they'd be flattened like bugs. "Hey, over here."

My call couldn't be heard over the pervasive roar of the encircling fire, so I brought my fingers up to my mouth and whistled. A couple of them looked over, then they were all hurrying my way as if they expected an explosion at any moment. As they arrived, I raised my hand and asked, "Okay, fellows, anybody speak English?"

"Yes, yes!" To my surprise, virtually everyone of them started nodding and jabbering in decent, if accented English.

I raised both hands to quiet them down, and with a smile said, "Okay, everybody, if you'll just follow me, we'll have you out of here in no time."

Most of the survivors, all men, maintained their dignity, smiling with relief, and readily following, but a couple of them were unable to restrain themselves. They crowded close to me, pawing at my uniform, ducking and bowing, crying with their gratitude.

I'd never yet come up with a good way to defuse that. Scott always said to just go with the flow. He said that some people just had to express themselves, and trying to stop them was like trying to grab a cloud in your hand. He was probably right, of course, but I couldn't help be uncomfortable.

I led the way to the side hatch, and escorted the men in. "All right, if I can get everyone to take a seat, please. Is everyone okay? Any injuries? No? What about you, sir? You seem to be having some trouble breathing there."

The man, in his thirties, had the same swarthy dark skin and bushy mustache and eyebrows as most of the rest, but I could see he looked a bit pale, and was gasping for breath. He shook his head, waving me off. "No, no, I will be fine. I have asthma, and I couldn't find my inhaler. But once we are away from here, I will recover."

I nodded, and turned to shut the hatch. "Virg, we're clear."

"FAB."

The sound of Thunderbird Two dropping down got all of the men looking up and muttering. I went over to one of the side cabinets and pulled out an oxygen cylinder. Going back to the asthmatic man, I set him up with it, much to his apparent embarrassment. "You sure you're okay? I can get you some albuterol if you need it."

The man shook his head, then looked me in the eye and said, "Thank you."

I nodded, then stepped away. Middle Eastern societies put a high premium on machismo, and I knew that making any more of a fuss would just embarrass the man all the more. Maybe even make him lash out.

The seats that the men sat in looked pretty much like standard airline seating. That was intentional to make people more comfortable in a crisis situation. But the seats were actually full-blown medical monitoring stations, and so while I walked away from the man, I wasn't leaving him on his own. I took my place at the front of the room, and flipped a few switches so the podium I sat at brought up the vitals of every man there.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no doctor. If one of these guys had a heart murmur, I'd never know it. But Brains had designed the board to basically just give us warnings of possible problems. If any one of these guys were to get sick, the board would start to flash his seat yellow, then red.

When we first brought victims on board, the seat lights would almost always start in the yellow as hearts were beating hard, and adrenaline was flowing. As people calmed down, and realized they were safe, the yellow would fade into green. Alan and I sometimes made a game of it, trying to see how quickly we could get a green board.

As I glanced at the board, I could see that already a few of the survivors had calmed down. The asthmatic was still in an orangey yellow state indicating his distress. I decided if he didn't get any better within the next two or three minutes, I was going to get the albuterol for him, and to hell with his pride.

"Virgil to Gordon. Are we clear for takeoff?"

"Yeah, we're good. I have one guy with a respiratory issue, but he's doing okay. How long will we be in the air?"

"3.5 minutes. Town called uh, Binjand."

"FAB." I flipped a switch to a microphone. "Folks, we'll be taking off momentarily. Our estimated flight time is less than five minutes. We'll be dropping you off in Binjand."

Okay, that got them all into the green except asthma man, who stayed steadily yellow. I frowned. The medical supplies were in the next area over. I could be there and back in a minute. But with help only a few minutes away, should I wait? I shook my head at the thought. No point in making the man wait for the help, and who knew once we were there how long it would take for some doctor to get him the medication he needed.

I got up, aware of all the eyes on me, and with a smile left the room. Like I said, it took me less than a minute, but in that time, the survivors had managed to get themselves all in a sweat. As I came into the room, I could see the sea of yellow light at the podium. I ignored it, and walked to the asthmatic man.

He was trying hard to hide his distress, but I could see his chest heaving. When he saw the inhaler in my hand, his eyes widened in true gratitude. He reached for it as I handed it to him, and he sucked down the medication with evident relief. He tried to hand it back to me, and I just shook my head. "Keep it."

I went back to my podium, and turned to see several of the men eyeing asthma man with envious looks. I had to sigh. There was a brisk trade on eBay for the flotsam and jetsam of International Rescue's missions. One empty gauze package had recently gone for a couple hundred dollars. God knew what that inhaler would fetch.

Almost before we were in the air, we were landing again. The men all looked slightly disappointed that their ride was over. Once I got the all clear from Virgil, I escorted the men out. We were in the parking lot of an official looking building, but I don't read Farsi, so it could have been the local Dairy Queen, for all I could tell. The men seemed to know where they were, and they all headed for the building, most of them shaking my hand and saying their thanks.

Once they were away, I buttoned up the hatch, and let Virgil know we were clear before heading up ship. By the time I reached the cockpit, we were already back over the refinery.

Virgil glanced over at me as I buckled in. "Any problems?"

"No. They were as meek as lambs. I gave the guy with the respiratory problem an inhaler, and he was fine."

"Good. Set up the HD imager, would you? I want Brains to get a look at this tower."

"Okay." Setting up the imager was really just a matter of pushing the right buttons, and Virgil could have easily done it himself, but he was aware of his control freak tendencies where Thunderbird Two was concerned, and unlike Scott and Thunderbird One, it bothered him. Not enough to let me actually fly her, but he would give me minor responsibilities every now and then.

"We're online."

"Good job. Thunderbird Two to base, sending image telemetry now."

There was a pause as we waited for the response. When it came, it was almost indecipherable. "….mission. Can…cle…us? We… c…any…"

It finally just degraded into pure static. Virgil and I both started at the monitor for a moment. I swallowed and asked, "You don't suppose there could be a radiation leak, do you?"

Virgil took a deep breath. "Why don't you check?"

"Yeah. Good idea." I moved to a little used station and brought up the radiation detectors. As I got them online, the screen went active, reporting a definite spike. Funny thing was, it wasn't at the cooling tower at all, but at a low blocky building half a mile away.

"Okay, so the cooling tower is okay, but that building over there is lit up like a Christmas tree."

"How bad?"

"Uh, according to this, we've got about four hours before the levels become a problem. I wonder what this thing considers a problem… sperm killing? Hair losing? Face melting?"

"Suffice it to say, we're outta here in three and a half hours. Okay, without Brains' input, we're going to have to prioritize ourselves. See that line over there? I'll use the Firefly to take it out. The Rugrats are ready, right? Okay, I want you to head them over to this tank here. If we can knock that tank and these lines out, the cooling tower should be safe."

"What about the building with the radiation?"

"Let's just worry about the tower for now, okay? We can decide what to do about that building once the tower is safe."

I nodded, and sat back as my brother landed Thunderbird Two, with the cooling tower between us and that deadly building. As we were unbuckling, Virgil said, "Full Hazmat gear, Gordon."

Like I was going to go out there in a Speedo. The Hazmat gear might be uncomfortable and bulky, but it also had its own cooling system, and more importantly, could keep me and my aching family jewels from frying. At least for four hours.

Once we had suited up, we went together to the pod, then split up to get to our assigned vehicles. I watched as the Firefly trundled out of the pod, then followed in Babysitter, the command car for the four Rugrat vehicles. With my foam tanks following me like a row of oversized ducklings, I headed over to the tank Virgil had assigned me.

Okay, it was huge. About 100 feet tall, and maybe twice that in diameter. It was burning like a candle, from the top. Like a candle spilling its wax down one side, I could see where one whole section of the tank had deformed in the intense heat, and started sagging. Frankly, I was a bit surprised that the whole thing hadn't collapsed in on itself.

I positioned the first two of my Rugrats on the side that was spilling flaming oil to the ground. I kicked the high-pressure jets into gear, and an almost invisible line of the fire fighting foam leapt upward. It looked like I was trying to stop a shark attack with a piece of dental floss, but everywhere the foam hit, it seemed to bloom into huge house-sized green flowers. It was really kind of pretty, all the more so because the flames ceased as soon as the foam touched them.

Of course, there were maybe 80,000 gallons of fuel here, so I had only just started. As I worked steadily at knocking down the fire, I remembered an argument a couple of friends of mine had in high school. One of them insisted I was tenacious and intelligent, and the other said I was dumb and stubborn. I always thought of that particular afternoon whenever I had a job like this. Tenacious or stubborn, it didn't matter. All that mattered was I wasn't going to give up until that damn fire was out.

I kept my focus on my part of the job, but every once in a while, I'd turn to check on Virgil's progress. It wasn't that I doubted his ability, it was just that… well, I guess it was just that I was feeling pretty damn vulnerable with only one brother here with me. Stupid, I know.

It took me the better part of two hours and three empty Rugrat tanks to get to a point where I could actually see progress, and another forty minutes to get the fire knocked out. By the time I was done, I was hot, sweaty, and pretty damn sick of Iran.

"Virgil, this is Gordon, I'm taking the Rugrats back to Thunderbird Two."

When I didn't get any response, I looked over at where I had last seen my brother, and my stomach dropped when I couldn't see him. I was in an absolute panic when I looked around, trying to spot him. To my utter relief, I saw the Firefly standing by at the pod. "Geez, Virg, you scared me to death! Why didn't you answer me?"

Still no response, but this time I noticed a low hum of static. My stomach stayed down on the floor where it had fallen as I realized the radiation had taken out our local communications. Virgil could have gotten into trouble, and I would never have known. With my mouth dry, I headed Babysitter back to the ship, the four depleted Rugrat tanks following dutifully behind.

As I approached, I could see Virgil in Firefly's cabin watching me like a hawk. I guess I wasn't the only one bothered by the breakdown of our radios. I got Babysitter and the Rugrats in their bays, and locked them down as Virgil did the same with Firefly.

We met in the middle of the pod bay floor. "You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"I'm fine. What's next? Do you think we should tackle that building or not?"

Virgil pushed the Hazmat hood back from his head and scratched at his ear. "I don't know. I'd feel a lot better if we had an idea of what its function is."

I had to snort. "You really have a doubt?"

"Crap." Virgil let out a breath, then nodded to the elevator. "Let's get in the air and take another look."

"Aye-aye, _mon Capitaine_."

Together we went up ship, and Virgil boosted us up into the air. As soon as the deadly building was in sight, we both swore. In the last few hours, another line had caught fire, and this time, the building was caught up in flame. My mouth went dry as I realized that whatever was in that building could have exploded at anytime. And if it was the weapons factory that I suspected it was, that explosion could have taken out the tank farm and a few square miles of countryside with it.

Virgil didn't hesitate. He flew Thunderbird Two directly over the engulfed building, and let loose with our foam cannons. They weren't as precise as Firefly or the Rugrats, more like using a water balloon than a squirt gun, but they got the job done. Dad might rail against the waste, but at the moment, I was in full accord with my brother.

The cannons did their job, and the fire was out, but there still was the issue of the radiation. I glanced over at Virgil, and I could see he was thinking about it. I gave him some time, then asked, "So, what's the plan?"

He shook his head. "I don't see any way around it. We're going to have to go down there and make sure that facility is secure."

I glanced down at the building. "It's covered in foam. It's not going to burn."

"I know. Check the radiation levels. See if they've gone down."

I slid over. The news wasn't good. "According to this, it's increased since the last reading. If we're going in, we only have about forty minutes."

I watched Virgil as he mulled it over. Forty minutes went by in a flash in a situation like this. But did we dare just walk away? With something like a groan, Virgil made his decision, and sent Thunderbird Two down. As he was landing, he said, "Listen, I want you to stay here. I'm going to go take a look. If I'm not back in thirty minutes, take Thunderbird Two out of here."

"Yeah, good plan. I'll stay here and you can go check if out. That way at least one of us will be safe." As I said it, I unbuckled my seat, and got up and headed after my brother.

He didn't realize I was behind him until we got into the elevator. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." I used that tone I had always used when I didn't want to say what I was doing.

"Gordon… I need you to stay here."

"I heard you the first time."

"Gordon…" The elevator came to a stop and the door opened, I headed out, with Virgil trailing behind. He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, this isn't a request. I'm ordering you to stay onboard."

"I know you are." I pulled away and opened the side hatch.

The hand on my shoulder pulled me around again. "Gordon… I need you to stay safe."

"What you need and what you get aren't always the same thing, Virg. Now, are you coming or not?"

That little bit of mush out of the way. Virgil sighed and said, "I'm lead. You do what I say, and don't wander off. We haven't got time to get lost."

"FAB."

Virgil took the lead. He'd landed us practically on the front doorstep of the building. It had signs, but they were all in Farsi so we were basically moving blind. The glass-fronted doors opened onto what I would call a standard industrial lobby. The only indication that this wasn't just a normal office building was the evidence of security scanners at all the doorways back into the building.

We moved over to the door directly next to the biggest security desk, and checked out the scanner. It required a thumbprint and a retinal scan. Impressive. Virgil reached into a pocket and pulled out a device that the world didn't need to know that International Rescue had. Hell, most of our operatives didn't know about it either.

It was the size of a paperback book. It was flat black in color and totally innocuous in appearance. Virgil held it up first to the retinal scanner and then to the thumbprint scanner, and slick as snot, we were in. At times like this, I always thanked my lucky starfish that Dad had met Brains.

Virgil just grunted in satisfaction and led the way through the door. We'd barely stepped inside when we both stopped and stared at the corridor ahead of us. My poor abused stomach was clenching like nobody's business, and I could sense the tension in my brother next to me. The fire had been in this hallway, and the walls and ceiling looked as if they would collapse under a butterfly's wing.

"Geezus," Virgil muttered under his breath.

"We going to go on?" I asked, not sure what answer I wanted.

Virgil started to bring a gloved hand up to his face, but of course, the Hazmat hood would prevent him rubbing his jaw or anything, and he arrested the movement. Visibly stiffening his spine, he nodded. "C'mon."

Well, a short life and merry I always said, and I followed my brother, carefully picking our way forward. We got about ten feet when it all came crashing down around us.


	28. Chapter 28

There wasn't any warning. No creaks or cracks. I was moving forward, with my eyes on the damaged floor ahead of me when I was knocked down in a shudder of collapsing material. The rigid hood of the Hazmat helmet protected my face, and the material of the suit was designed to take a lot of punishment, but there was damned little it could do about the concrete and rebar falling down around me. There was a sharp pain in my back, and everything went gray.

I don't think I was out for long. Maybe a few harsh breaths. But there was out, and there was out. I lay there, under what felt like a ton of rubble, stunned. It was a wheezing, rattling sound that brought me out of the funk. I knew it meant trouble, and I came to my senses trying to get to my feet. Bad idea.

There was this hot pain in my back any time I moved. I lay still panting, trying to take stock. I experimented with flexing various muscles, and was relieved to find that for the most part, I was just battered and bruised. There was something going on in my left hand, but it didn't seem major.

In taking stock, I discovered it wasn't so much my back as my butt. There was something sharp, and it had penetrated the suit, and gone into the muscle in my rear by about one to two inches.

I carefully moved my hand around, shedding crumbling bits of concrete, and felt for whatever it was. Even through the thickness of my glove, I could feel the ridges of the rebar. An experimental tug didn't move the metal one bit, but the accompanying muscle reaction in my rear sent a wave of nausea through me.

My attention was drawn back to the wheezing noise I had heard earlier. It was coming from somewhere to my right, and in a sudden burst of terrifying lucidity, I knew it was the respirator on my brother's suit.

"Virgil…" I called out, but my own respirator had already given up the ghost, and in drawing that breath to call, I had sucked in the fine dust in the air. I spent the next few precious moments coughing. Each cough brought more pain from the metal in my back, and I found I had to fight off the gray that wanted to drag me down into unconsciousness as well as the hacking coughs.

I finally got it under control, to a point that I was breathing in shallow pants. It was pitch black around me, and I couldn't see a thing, but I knew my brother was in desperate trouble. He never answered my call, and there was no way he wouldn't have if he could have.

I tried reaching out in the direction of the wheezing respirator, but I couldn't even fully extend my arm before I hit an obstruction that I couldn't reach around. I had to think. I had to figure this out. We were alone, and there was nobody coming to rescue us. I didn't know how much of our forty-minute safety margin had passed, but there couldn't be much time left.

The steel rebar in my back was angled, pointing toward my feet. I tried to push myself back that way in the hope that I could pull myself off, but there was no give in the debris behind me or under me. I was pinned like a damned bug on a board. The only thing I achieved with the attempt was more pain, more time lost to graying out, more blood loss.

I could feel myself weakening. The blood loss was becoming a problem. I snorted to myself. Yeah, the blood loss is a problem, and the rest of it is nothing. It dawned on me that I might not make it out of this. Just the thought made me struggle all the more, but it was no use. The steel was immovable. The debris was immovable. And me? I could wiggle, and that was it. I lay there panting, trying to think, to plan. I started to fade out, and I had to force myself not to close my eyes.

I couldn't give up. I mean, if I gave up, what would happen to Virgil? "Virgil? Virg? Wake up, Virg, you gotta get up!"

I listened for any response, but the only thing I heard was that damn respirator finally pack it in. I was getting desperate, but for the moment, I worked to control my breathing enough so I could hold my breath. After a few moments, I took in some air, and held it. I strained to hear any sound from my brother. It was hard, because the blood had started pounding in my ears, but I may have heard a gasp or two.

Oh God, this was a stupid way to die. I struggled again, trying to push myself back, trying to get the rebar out. The gray came over me in a rush, and I stopped struggling.

I opened my eyes again when I heard something. I don't know what it was, but it pulled me out of the gray funk. It was strange, because where before it had been pitch black, now there was light.

I moved my head a bit, and I could see a bright warm light some ten feet away. It had a misty quality, and I felt myself yearn toward it. It was hard to breathe, my back felt like it was on fire, but I felt this sense of peace when I looked to the light.

Is this what death is like? I hadn't thought I was hurt that bad. Geez, maybe I bled out. Or could I have been out long enough for the radiation to kill me? It seemed like just a momentary black out, but would I even know? And weren't there supposed to be angels and stuff?

I wondered if I'd get to meet my mom. I'd never had a chance to know her, but my older brothers all said she was wonderful. Maybe Grandpa would be there. Almost as if my thoughts had drawn them, there were suddenly figures all in white coming through the light.

One of them came toward me, and the other moved to my right. I felt immense sadness that they were coming for Virgil too. The first figure knelt by me, a halo of white light around the head keeping me from making out the features. I wanted to say something but it was too hard to breathe, and the blood loss made me feel all weak and washy.

Uh… wait… isn't the pain supposed to go…. Ah, crap! That hurt! I tried to pull away from the figure, and only succeeded in graying out again.


	29. Chapter 29

I was in a gray pool where nothing hurt, nothing worried me. It felt good, in a way, but in another way, I knew it was all wrong. There was something that tugged at my mind. I ignored it for a while, but as soon as I realized the tugging was there, I knew I had to respond.

I concentrated on the tug, and suddenly, I was awake with a gasp. I lay still gathering my thoughts. Well, maybe that was the wrong word. I wasn't so much gathering anything as lying there, waiting for my brain to kick in. Didn't take too long, I don't think. I sort of just became aware of things. Like the presence of light all around me. And that comforting low rumble that I couldn't quite identify.

Oh. I was in a bed. So, that meant I must have been rescued. Cool. I was lying on my side, with something propping me up from behind. I tried to shift to a more comfortable position, and realized I was strapped down. That couldn't be good, could it?

I frowned and smacked my lips, trying to wet them. Didn't get far. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I was strapped to the bed. I couldn't move much, and I had a prick of worry that I didn't know who had rescued me. The last thing I remembered was seeing a couple of angels.

I looked around, and saw a white, fabric-covered helmet, and heavy duty white gauntlet on a counter. I snorted a laugh. Now that my head was clearer, I realized that the so-called angels had been guys in Hazmat suits. So, apparently Dad had managed to get the locals to come in after all. Angels. What had I been thinking?

Oh my God! Virgil! I had to find him! I started to struggle against the straps holding me down.

"Hey Squirt! Easy there! Take it easy!"

I looked up at the approaching figure, and my eyes went wide. It was John. But how could John be here? He was strapped down at home. Oh God! Had he escaped? Was this his vengeance for me drugging him? I couldn't help but shrink back.

John saw the movement and stopped dead. He caught my eye, and said very carefully, "You're okay. You're onboard Thunderbird Two, and we're on our way home. Scott and I came with Alan, and we pulled you guys out just in time. Virgil is right over there, and he's doing all right. He's got a couple of broken bones, and a concussion."

I tried to crane my neck, but the bed John had pointed to was behind my back, and the straps wouldn't let me turn enough to confirm Virgil's presence. My head was spinning. John was acting normal, but he'd acted normal before. Could I trust him? God.

I tried to say something but it came out as a rasp. John cocked his head, and said, "Let me get you some ice chips for your throat."

He went over to the dispenser and filled a small cup. He came back, and set the cup down and reached toward me. I sucked in a breath, suddenly apprehensive. John didn't stop this time, instead moving in and working the buckle on the strap holding my shoulders. "Relax, Gordon, the straps are just so you don't fall out of bed. Alan is flying, and you know what that means."

With the strap loosened, John brought the cup over. He handed me a spoon, and held the cup so I could get the ice chips myself. That first mouthful was like heaven. I managed one more before my arm grew too heavy to hold the spoon. I put the spoon in the cup and dropped my arm onto the bed.

John nodded as if satisfied, and turned away. I kept my eyes on him, afraid of what he had in mind. I only had his word that Alan was flying Thunderbird Two, and while I couldn't think of any reason why he'd lie about it, I still couldn't be sure this wasn't all some weird ruse and that he was taking me to the succubus.

John finished whatever it was he was doing, and turned back to me. I couldn't help the gasp that escaped me. He was holding a syringe. I didn't know what was in it, but I was damned sure it wasn't good. My heart pounded frantically as I started struggling to get the straps loose. A week ago if you'd said I'd be terrified of my own brother, I would have laughed in your face, but as he moved toward me, I just knew I had to stop him.

He saw me struggling, and he stepped back, holding up his hands in appeasement. "Whoa, hey, Gordon, take it easy! I'm okay. I'm not going to hurt you! Don't unstrap that, you could fall. Hey, really, stop it. Look, I'm backing away. Okay? I'm not going to touch you, no shots, nothing. Okay? Okay, little brother?"

I heard what he was saying but I didn't stop until all of the straps were off. I didn't try to get up, because just the effort of undoing the buckles had exhausted me. I stared at my brother. I wanted to believe him. God knows I did. I wanted him to be better. And Scott, too. But how could I trust him? How could I believe he wouldn't turn on me again? Hell, I still ached from the last time I trusted him.

Once the straps were undone, I lay there gasping from the exertion, watching him like a bird watches a snake. He sighed and cocked an eyebrow. "What do I need to do to prove it to you?"

I blurted out, "Alan. I want Alan."

"Alan's flying us home. You can see him when we get there."

"No, I want him now. You go fly and send him down."

I waited with a held breath. I hoped I could hold off the attack that I was certain was coming, and sure enough, a look of annoyance flitted across my brother's face. The moment passed, and to my surprise, I caught a glimpse of sadness before he turned and walked away, saying. "All right. Just don't try to get up. Alan will be here in a few minutes."

I watched carefully as he left the medical bay. Okay, I didn't know what that meant. Was he really better? Or was it still some elaborate ploy? I felt like if I turned away from the door, he'd sneak back in and get me. But I couldn't just lie there. I turned very carefully, gritting my teeth at the flare of pain. I got twisted enough to look over at the next bed.

Sure enough, Virgil was there, pale and unconscious. The overhead vitals monitor showed his heartbeat was strong, and he was breathing without distress. I could make out a developing bruise near his hairline, and his bare chest was swathed in bandages. I watched the rise and fall of his chest, and felt a sudden knot in my throat. I'd come very close to losing him, and whatever else happened, I'd be eternally grateful that he survived.

With that damn body pillow pushing against my back, the position I'd pretzeled into to see my brother quickly became impossible to hold, so I flopped back, and just lay still with my eyes on the door. I had started to zone out, when it suddenly opened, and my heart climbed into my throat.

To my surprise and relief, it really was Alan. He came straight to me, a look of concern on his still bruised face. "Hey, Johnny said you wanted to see me?"

"Thank God! Are you all right? He didn't hurt you?"

Alan's eyebrows climbed. "No, of course not. Listen, he's okay. And so is Scott. Brains got them squared away."

I still didn't quite buy it. "You're sure?"

"Hell yes, I'm sure. Actually, Scott was pretty much okay as soon as he woke up. Brains said it took John longer because he'd been exposed longer, but once we were sure about Scott, Brains gave John another shot, and he was fine."

"What about Virgil?"

My brother looked over at the other bed, and his brows knitted briefly. "He'll be okay. But he's got a couple of broken ribs, and a concussion. You're both probably going to need treatment for radiation exposure. We got there as fast as we could, but you'd already entered that building when we showed up. We saw a good chunk of the building collapse as we were landing. Scott practically had a heart attack."

I cocked an eyebrow at my brother. "How could you tell?"

Alan grinned. "That little tic in his eye started jumping."

I had to smile myself. When any of us were in what Scott perceived as danger, he would become so focused and stoic that we sometimes joked that he could die at his post, and nobody would notice. Still smiling, I relaxed a bit and closed my eyes.

Alan asked, "So we're good? I can get back to the flight deck?"

"No!" It came out almost before I thought. I stiffened up immediately, and my heart started to pound.

Alan looked at me in surprise. "Hey, this really has you freaked, doesn't it?"

I looked away from him. I didn't know what to say. I could hardly explain it myself. John was my brother, and more than that, he was a good friend. He always had been. Why was it so hard for me to accept that he was okay?

Whatever. Alan seemed to understand. "Well, don't worry about it. I don't mind staying down here. Besides, Thunderbird Two is a pig to fly."

We both froze at a grumbling little mumble that came from Virgil's direction. It wasn't repeated, and I relaxed a bit. Alan put on his best ghost voice and called out, "Virgil… It was John who said that. John, not Alan. Jooooohnnnnnn."

He supplemented it with a little hoodoo wiggle of his fingers. I shook my head. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"It's worth a shot." Alan grinned. He walked over to a counter and picked up the syringe John had prepared. "You ready for this?"

"What is it?"

"Fifty mils of Brains' best."

I shook my head. Brains was a wizard with painkillers, but I wasn't that bad, and I didn't really want to be left out of the loop. As long as I was awake, I could keep my eye on things. Alan shrugged and set the syringe aside. "Let me just check on Virgil, here."

I tried again to push myself up to see what was happening, but I was just too damn weak. "Alan, get this pillow out of here. I can't lie down with it pushing my back. It's freakin' uncomfortable."

"Trust me, you don't want to lie down. You practically ripped your ass off. You're better off on your side."

"Alan…"

"Okay, let me ask you, is it that you really want to lie on your back, or is it you're having a control freak attack? You have to see Virg to believe he's all right?"

I frowned at my brother. "I'm not a control freak."

Alan snorted, then said, "How about this? I'll move Virgil over here to station five. You'll be able to see him, without screaming in agony."

"I don't scream."

"Yeah, right. Give me a minute to get his bed unlocked." I listened to the sound of latches thumping open, and then watched as Alan carefully maneuvered my brother's bed around mine and into the new position. He took a few minutes to engage the locking system that would prevent the bed from being moved by the ship's motion, then turned to me with a grin. "See? As easy as pie."

"I don't scream, Alan. I suffer in noble silence."

He hooted a laugh, then grimaced. "Don't make me laugh, Gordy. My jaw is starting to hurt, and I don't want to take anything for it until we're home."

"Now who's the control freak?"

"Hey, I have to be conscious. You don't. If I'm out, who's going to save us when John runs into a cloud or something? You know he can't fly worth beans."

I brought my hand up to wipe my face, and Alan came to me. "Speaking of which, how about we use a strap. Just one. In case of turbulence."

I really hated being restrained. I always felt like I was trapped. But I could see the sense of it. I was so damned weak. I couldn't say it out loud, so I just nodded. Alan reached over me and pulled up the webbed strap at my waist. He buckled it loosely enough that I could move, but still secure enough to keep me in the bed. He also made sure the buckle was near my hand, a courtesy that I very much appreciated.

I looked over at Virgil. To my eye, he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Alan followed my look and said, "See? He's all right. What made you guys go into that building in the first place? We didn't find any sign of survivors or anything. Didn't you know it was radioactive?"

"We knew. Virgil figured we'd prevent a nuclear catastrophe if we went in and shut down whatever was causing the radiation."

"Yeah, that's what Scott figured. Turned out the damage was too severe. We had to encase the whole building in FLS. God knows how the Iranians will clean it up. World Gov is already after them for building the site in the first place."

"They deserve whatever happens to them. They built that site in the middle of a wildlife refuge."

"Oh, come on, Gordon. Were you not looking? That place was a wasteland. The only wild animals likely to take refuge there are cockroaches. And snakes. Ugly snakes."

Alan really hated snakes. Still, I shook my head. "Just because they don't parade in front of you like at a zoo doesn't mean there aren't any animals there. Probably goats or antelope, and if there is prey, there will be predators. God, that could have been the last population of any number of desert animals, and those people just tossed them aside to build bombs."

Our conversation was cut short when Virgil started to stir. Alan was there in a shot, "Virgil? You waking up?"

My brother's eyes slitted open, then immediately closed again. He croaked out, "You don't need to yell."

"Sorry," Alan responded in a near whisper. He moved to the ice dispenser, and winced at the clatter it made filling the cup. Moving back to the bed, he offered a spoonful of ice. "Here, this should help."

Virgil cracked open his lips and accepted the offering. "Thanks. What happened?"

Alan straightened a little, a more formal, evaluator tone in his voice. "What do you remember?"

I held my breath, knowing that answering a question with a question was a surefire way to get Virgil's back up. To my surprise, he frowned slightly, and said, "We were searching a building. It collapsed on us." His eyes flew open. "Gordon! Where's Gordon?"

"I'm right here. I'm okay." I answered quickly.

Unfortunately for Virgil, he jerked his head around at the sound of my voice. You could just see the pain flare, and his eyes started to roll up into his head. But my brother was tougher than just about anybody I knew, and he held on, riding the wave of pain out.

Alan crossed his arms, and said, "Well, that was swift."

"Shut up, Alan," Virgil and I said in tandem. Virgil searched my face. "Are you okay?"

I smirked. "Better off than you. I got a hole in my butt, but I didn't break any bones."

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, then they flew open again. "Who's flying us?"

Alan and I both had to smile at the tone of desperation in his voice. Alan responded. "Relax, John's at the controls. He won't ding her up."

"John?"

"Yup. Brains got him all fixed up."

"Scott?"

"Scott too. Apparently that combination of drugs that he tried out on Gordon actually worked. Brains said no more cyproterone for any of them."

"Scott's okay? Where is he?" Virgil looked around as if he expected Scott to pop out of the woodwork.

"Flying Thunderbird One. You want to talk to him? I can call him for you, if you want?"

If Virgil had said no, I would have overridden him, but he closed his eyes, and nodded softly. With a small smile, Alan strode over to the communicator. "Thunderbird Two to Thunderbird One."

"Thunderbird One. Is everything okay? John said Gordon wouldn't talk to him." There was a tiny note of apprehension in my brother's voice that I had to address.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know he was okay. I'll apologize later."

"Gordon? It's good to hear your voice. How are you doing?"

"Not all that well, actually. I think I'm going to need your dessert to be better."

There was a snort, then he said, "Alan, how is Virgil doing?"

"I'm okay, Scott," Virgil said. I noticed he had relaxed as soon as he heard Scott's voice. Truth be known, I did too. Sometimes I surprise myself with the depth of my feeling for my family. Just knowing Scott was okay made things a hell of a lot better.

There was a pause before Scott answered, "Good enough. We're all doing better. That's what's important. I'm coming up on the island. I'll see you all when you get here."

My brother signed off, and we all grew quiet. Virgil shifted to get more comfortable. Without opening his eyes, he said, "You wouldn't talk to John?"

"Hey, I woke up, I didn't know what the hell was happening, I was strapped down, and all of the sudden, there he was with this giant syringe. The last time I'd seen him he'd been trying to tear off my balls. I got a little apprehensive. So sue me."

Virgil got this little smile. Still without opening his eyes, he said, "Alan, can you get John on the horn for me?"

"Sure thing." Alan flipped a switch on the communicator. "John?"

"Yes? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Johnny, I just needed to hear your voice," Virgil said with a sigh.

"Virgil?" The pure relief in my brother's voice left no doubt how close a call it had been.

"Yes. You need me to smack Gordon for you?"

I snorted. "You and what army?"

"Thanks for the support, but I can do my own smacking if need be. Gordon, you on board now?"

"On board? With what?" I couldn't help heckling my brother. I was just so damn happy everyone was back to normal. Well, as back to normal as five injured guys could be.

Sure enough, John had a bit of irritation in his voice, a sure sign that he was back to being the John I knew and loved. "Hey, I saved your scrawny butt, kid."

"Yeah? Well, you didn't do such a great job. I have a big old hole in it."

There was a pause, and then John said carefully, "Are you actually giving me an opening to comment on you being twice an asshole?"

Alan and I burst out laughing. Virgil started to, but then grimaced with pain. "John, concussion here. Don't make me laugh, okay?"

"Sorry, Virg."

"S'all right. What's our E.T.A.?"

"About an hour. Or 58.6 minutes for the anal among us."

Virgil stiffened for a moment, and Alan and I just shook our heads. The man survived a supernatural encounter with a succubus, only to throw it all away. "Nice knowing you, Johnny," Alan said with a smirk.

Virgil opened an eye, cocked an eyebrow at our youngest brother, and said, "You think I didn't hear that comment about Two?"

Alan's smirk never wavered. "Doesn't count. I used Hoodoo Fingers." He demonstrated, holding his hands out and wiggling his fingers in Virgil's direction.

I put on my solemn face. "He's right, I saw him."

"You think waving fingers in my face will save you?"

Alan drew back and frowned in indignation. "Well, of course they do, Virgil. It's the law."

I waved my hand in appeasement. "Cut him some slack, Al. He's got a concussion."

"You're right, he does," Alan replied sagely. "I'll tell you what Virg, we'll talk about it in a couple of days, how's that?"

Virgil who had already closed his eyes didn't respond. Dropping the farce, Alan moved over to his bed and checked him out. "Hey, Virgil, don't go to sleep on us!"

"I'm not, I'm not. Just resting my eyes." You could hear the exhaustion in the slurring words, and suddenly things were serious again.

"Hey, Virgil, you know the drill. No sleep for the first 60 minutes. Al, how long has he been awake?" John's voice was sharp

"Fifteen minutes max."

"Bullshit. It's been thirty minutes at least." Virgil shot a look at Alan that would have made me flinch, but Al just raised an eyebrow.

I could tell he was likely to say something that would just make Virgil angry. I wasn't ready to lose that good survivor feeling I had. Before it could go any further, I asked, "Hey, Virg, I was trying to remember the name of that song you played that time. What was it called again?"

It was a mark of the concussion that it took my brother a good 30 seconds to shift gears, and look over at me, with a pain filled squint in his eyes. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You know, that song you play on the piano. That one that I like."

"The one you like. Gordon, you're going to have to be a little more specific than that. How does it go?"

"See, that's the thing. I can't remember how it goes, but it's real pretty, and you play it for me sometime."

"Is it jazz? Classical? Give me a hint."

I frowned, shaking my head. "I'm not sure. What do you think, Al? You know the one I mean, right? The one Virgil plays."

Alan had no clue, of course, but he was willing to play along. "No, I'm not sure. Is it that one about the frozen man? You know, the guy that was brought back to life? I never liked that song. I didn't like the part about the brothers dying."

That brought a smile to my face. "No, no, you've got us confused again. Frozen Man is my song, not Virgil's. I play it on the guitar."

"Played it. You haven't picked up that guitar in months."

Virgil had his eyes closed again, but I heard a wistfulness in his voice that surprised me. The guitar was actually Scott's. He'd bought it when he was sixteen or seventeen, thinking he'd learn it real quick and impress the girls. Turned out, he didn't really have the time to learn it, and it had stayed packed away in his closet when he went off to Yale.

He'd given it to me shortly after my fourteenth birthday, when I was unable to swim for most of that spring and summer due to a hip injury. I was pretty much laid up that summer, and with nothing better to do, I'd thrown myself into learning the guitar. I got pretty good at it. But when you have a pianist like Virgil in the family, there isn't much need for a strum bum with a squeaky voice.

I shook my head. "Yeah, I know. I never seem to have the time any more."

Virgil turned his head to look me in the eye. "You should make time, Gordon. You're really good at it."

"I'll second that," John piped up from the intercom.

"Yeah, me too." Alan smiled at me.

Okay, this was not what I expected. I shook my head. "Don't change the subject. What's that song you play, Virg? I think it's foreign."

"Foreign? Foreign? What the hell does that mean?"

I sighed. "It means I don't think it's an American song. But it's still pretty. Maybe it's classical." I had to give him some clues, or he'd get frustrated and tense up, and that would defeat my purpose.

Virgil batted his eyes. "So we can eliminate Gershwin and Copeland."

"And the slit your wrists guy. You can eliminate him too, right?" Alan nodded thoughtfully.

Virgil rubbed his eyes with his hand and said wearily, "Barber. Yes, he's American. We can eliminate him and Cage, Bernstein and Gottschalk, and any number of other composers."

"Okay, so who's left?" I asked innocently.

Virgil looked at me with a 'you've got to be kidding' stare. "Can we eliminate a century?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe. I don't think it's from this century."

"Well, that's good. It only leaves a couple of millennium to clear," John's sarcasm was clear.

"No, I'm pretty sure we can eliminate the really old stuff. I know it's not like, fancy, you know? Not all trills and stuff, so that leaves out, um, Mozart? Yeah, Mozart. Him and his ilk."

Alan snorted. "Ilk?"

"Yeah, like an elk, only more Mozarty."

"Moonlight Sonata."

"Huh? What did you say, Virg?"

"It's called the Moonlight Sonata. You like it, and I've played it before."

Clearly my brother was tired of the game, but hey, we'd killed another 20 minutes of that hour he had to stay awake, and that was what was important.

In the old days, they tried to keep concussion victims awake for hours at a time, thinking that sleep would degenerate into coma. That had been proven wrong, and for a while, concussion victims were encouraged to sleep to promote healing. Nowadays, it was a mix of the two. You wanted the victim to stay awake for the first hour so you could see if there was any change in behavior or cognition, which would indicate a more serious brain injury.

So far, Virgil was actually passing with flying colors. I shook my head, "No, that's not it, but now that you mention it, I remember it was called Moonlight, in um, French or Dutch or something."

"Maanlicht?" John popped in again.

"Huh?"

"Maanlicht. Moonlight in Dutch."

"I've got it covered, John," Virgil said, more awake now than before. "You're talking about Clair de Lune by Debussy."

"Yeah, that's it! It's real pretty, right? Maybe when you feel better, you can play it for me."

"Sure. I'll play that, if you'll play me something on the guitar."

I frowned. I hadn't expected that one. "Okay. I will if you want me to."

"Hey, maybe he could teach you to play Clair de Lune on the guitar. It would probably work on guitar, don't you think, Virg?" Alan smiled with pleasure.

Sure, it was easy for him to say. Thing was, I'd never learned to actually read music, and I really only learned the songs I knew by watching vids on the computer. Well, maybe there was something online. Still, I'd probably just go with my party piece, Malaguena. Even that, I'd have to practice up.

"I don't want to wait for him to learn a new piece. Remember when he was trying to learn Bell Bottom Blues? It took months."

"Yeah, but Clair de Lune doesn't have any lyrics." I could have done without Johnny's remarks.

"Al, he's casting aspersions. Make him stop," I whined, sticking out a quivering lower lip.

Alan just shook his head. "Sorry, bro, I gotta side with John on this one. Your singing voice is… not on a par with your swimming skills."

Virgil and John both snorted, and in fact, so did I. It was sadly true. I couldn't sing a lick. I stuck my nose up and said loftily, "Fine. I'll learn Clair de Lune. Virgil, I'll have it ready in time for your fortieth birthday. Mark it on your calendar."

Virgil smiled at me and shook his head. "I will, but I don't want to wait. How about Malaguena when we get home?"

"Maybe not right away. I'm not sure I can sit up at all."

Virgil frowned. "Okay, what exactly is this hole in your butt?"

"Scott and John found him pinned by a piece of rebar. The wound's at least four inches deep. It's nasty. We're going to have to get him to a plastic surgeon pretty quickly."

"So," Virgil still had the frown. "Rebar, huh? I'll bet that stung."

"Big time. There was no warning. One minute I was fine, and the next I was flattened, and pinned like beetle in a biology class. If Scott and John hadn't showed up when they had, we would probably still be there, only a lot less lively."

The underlying rumble of Thunderbird Two's engines took on a deeper tone. Virgil immediately cocked his head to listen. "John, what's happening?"

"We're coming up on the island. 100 miles out. We'll be home in five minutes. Just relax and leave the driving to me."

Virgil was pretty rigid on the bed. Alan checked his chronometer, and said, "Wow, time really does fly. Okay, you can go to sleep now, Virgil."

Yeah, that was going to happen. My older brother was listening to every little sound the ship made. "He's communing," I said with a shrug.

Alan rolled his eyes, but checked that Virgil and I were both safely strapped in, before pulling down a jump seat between us. We both knew that conversation would just irritate our brother, so we were quiet. I closed my eyes, and just nodded off.


	30. Chapter 30

When I awoke later, I was surprised to find myself in the house. I must have really been out of it not to have awakened when Virgil and I were transferred. I was face down on a massage table, and I could feel cold hands probing my butt.

"Hey, hey, watch what you're poking there!" I tried to lift up to see who it was but a small soft hand on my shoulder stopped me. "Grandma?"

"That's right, baby. You just lie still and let the doctor do his work."

"Doctor? What doctor?"

"It's me, Gordon. Now hold still, while I look at this."

Dr. Carraker. Damn. Doc Carraker was the local flying doctor. Well, at least I didn't have to lie to the man. He'd been our family doctor since we'd first moved to the island. Unfortunately he'd been sharp enough to notice that we had injuries more frequently than any wealthy playboy should. Despite our protests, he convinced himself that either Dad or Scott had become abusive.

That ended about a year ago when Scott had convinced Dad to let Doc in on the secret. Now that he knew, we were open and above board about the various injuries that we sustained in the course of our work. Which was great, don't get me wrong. I hate lying. I just wasn't crazy about the lectures he apparently felt obligated to deliver.

Doc poked and prodded for a few minutes longer. Just when I thought I couldn't stand it any more, he stopped and stepped back. "Well, that's a nasty wound. It's going to require microsurgery to sew up those muscles. I know a surgeon in Singapore who's at the top of the field. I'll set up an appointment."

"Singapore? I don't want to go to Singapore. Can't you just do it yourself?"

"Gordon, you hush now. If Doctor Carraker says Singapore, then Singapore it is, and you'll show appropriate gratitude, thank you very much."

"Grandma…"

"I said hush, and I mean it." Grandma used her voice of steel, and I had no option but to shut up.

"To answer your question, Gordon, yes, I could close it up, but I wouldn't guarantee that it wouldn't be permanently painful. Your gluteus is torn practically down to the bone. A topflight surgeon can microstitch the individual muscle fibers. The best I could do is push it all together, and hope it heals."

Well, there was no point in arguing. I really hated hospitals. The infirmary was bad enough, but at least there, I could tell myself I was home. But I couldn't afford any other source of pain. I'd worked long and hard to convince my family that I was still a viable member of the team, and if I had a limp or something, it'd be like going back to square one.

"All right. Go ahead and make the appointment, but I'm telling you right now, I'm not staying in the hospital for more than a day, two days, max."

"Gordon!" Grandma's tone was cross.

"It's okay, Mrs. Tracy. As bad as this looks, there's no sign of infection. No infection means it would be an outpatient procedure anyway. I'll see if I can get it set up for tomorrow or the next day. I'm going to recommend spending one night in a hotel to sleep of the anesthesia, but I can't see any reason, again barring infection, why you can't come home the next day."

I nodded as best I could while face down. "Okay, that sounds good. Doc, how's Virgil doing?"

"Two fractured ribs, mild concussion. Brains' concoction has done a fine job ameliorating Alan's injury, and I have high hopes that it will do the same with Virgil's ribs. I hope to convince your father to talk to Brains about letting me run some field trials on it. It may cut down the time it takes Virgil to get back on his feet to two weeks or less. The concussion should resolve itself within a few days if he rests. And I know that's a big if."

You know, before we'd made Doc an official International Rescue agent, he was like any other doctor I'd ever met. You ask them how someone's doing, and you get this vague response. But since he came on board, he'd tell us all anything we wanted to know, unless the person in question told him not to. I liked knowing.

"So, where is he? In the infirmary?" I asked. The massage table was actually in a room off of the gym. I could understand why they'd stuck me in here for Doc's exam, but I would be damned if I'd stay here any longer than necessary.

"Yes." Doc's response was distracted, and I could hear the beeps and boops of him entering information in his laptop.

"Okay, so, can I get up now?"

"Get up? I don't think you quite realize how badly you've been injured. I've temporarily packed and closed the wound, but a lot of movement is likely to reopen it. And I think you'll find sitting up difficult, even with painkillers."

"Well, I can't stay in here. How am I going to get to my room?"

"Sweetheart, don't you even think you'll be going to your room. You just lie still here, and I'll call your brothers to come help you." Grandma was still using that no nonsense tone, so I didn't try to get up.

There was the sound of a laptop closing, and Doc said, "All right, then, I'll just head up to the infirmary to have that talk with your father. I'll see you there shortly."

"Okay, Doc. And thanks for your help."

"You're very welcome, Gordon."

I heard him leave, and with Grandma across the room on the intercom, I was able to push myself up on my elbows.

Grandma finished ordering my brothers around, and came back toward me. I felt a frown take over my face. "Grandma, you look exhausted. You should be lying down, not worrying about my sorry butt."

She smiled at the little joke, but it was a weary smile. "Oh, don't you worry about me, honey. I'm tougher than I look."

I shook my head. "I know that. But I'd take it as a personal favor if you'll promise me you'll go and rest. Take a nap, or read a book or something."

She was always a sucker for that old fashioned kind of speech, but she just smiled and shook her head. "Thank you for the thought, baby, but with the entire house in such an uproar, the last thing I can do is lie down."

"Uproar? What uproar, Grandma? Surely Dad has taken International Rescue offline? There aren't any rescuers left."

"Scott and John both say they can hold the fort until you and your brothers are available."

"Well, that's just crazy. Al might be okay in a few days, but Virgil and I are going to need some real time. If Scott goes out on rescues, you know as well as I do that Virgil will refuse to stay behind."

"And you'll just stay meekly in bed?" Grandma asked tartly. "As it happens, your father agrees with you, and has sent a notice to the media that International Rescue is inactive pending repairs to equipment. We can only hope that he can keep Scott and John busy enough to satisfy them."

I went back to my original topic. "Okay, so International Rescue is shut down, and three out of five are injured, so what uproar? I'm serious, Grandma. You look old and frail. You never look old and frail, so it has to be because you're exhausted. Will you please just take it easy for the rest of the day? For me?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Well, when you put it so nicely, I can't refuse you. Once we have you settled in the infirmary, I'll go and sit out on the patio and read. Will that do?"

I smiled. "Absolutely. But make it War And Peace, not some comic book."

She gave me a look. On rainy days, when we were stuck inside as kids, she'd say that. Never worked. Comic books were just more interesting. I batted my eyes at her, and she smiled shaking her head in exasperation. Before she could respond, there was a clatter at the door, and Scott and John appeared pushing a hover stretcher.

"You called a cab?" Scott smiled.

"Actually, I rang for a limo. I guess I got gypped."

"Not at all. You've got two, count them, two drivers."

"Yeah, well, don't expect a double tip," I replied, but I guess the weariness showed, because Scott's smile turned all paternal.

"Okay, Squirt, this is how we're going to do this. You go limp, and let John and I slide you. Try not to tense up, especially your backside."

I nodded, and tried to do as Scott suggested. My brothers were experienced in just this kind of transfer, but it was hard not to try and help. In the end, I did tense a bit, and immediately understood what Scott had been trying to tell me. Despite the painkillers, I got a shot of near agony running from my butt on up my spine. I hardly had time to gasp, before I was on the stretcher.

Scott squatted to catch my eye. "Okay, I'm thinking when we get you up to the infirmary, we'll just leave you on the stretcher for now. How does that sound?"

I smiled. "Like a plan."

Scott disappeared from my immediate view, and said, "Okay, Johnny, let's make this nice and easy."

Between the hover feature, and my brothers' deft handling, the ride up to the infirmary was so smooth that I started to nod off. Before I was totally gone, my dad was there, that mask of professional air force officer firmly on his face to hide his concern. I kinda hated that mask. I'd seen it way too often in my life. I smiled and sketched a thumbs up. "Hey, Dad."

"Doc is trying to get an appointment for you with a doctor in Singapore. If I let you go up there, will you promise not to come home the way you did the last time?"

"What, you mean schnockered? Aw, you're no fun. Why don't you come with me? We'll show 'em what the Tracys are all about."

He reached out to touch my hair, fighting his smile with a narrow-eyed glare that fooled no one in the room. He delivered parental response number six with hardly a hitch. "We'll see."

I grinned, but could feel myself slipping away.


	31. Chapter 31

What? Where the hell was I? I'd just opened my eyes, and felt myself freeze. I wasn't in the infirmary. In fact, I wasn't anywhere I recognized. A guy in a white uniform was sitting practically in my lap watching me awaken, and I could feel movement. An ambulance?

What had happened? Where was my dad? I tried to move, but I was again strapped down.

"Hey, you awake, there?"

I turned toward the voice, and felt relief wash through me as I saw my brother Scott, sitting next to the stranger. With a glance at the guy, I said, "Yeah, what's going on? Where are we? Can I have some water?"

The stranger didn't move a muscle, but Scott shook his head. "No. No water for now. We're in Singapore. Doc Carraker told you he was going to set up an appointment with a top microsurgeon, right? Well, there was a cancellation, and it was either hustle up here, or wait for four days. Dad decided to send us up right away. You'll be in surgery in about, oh, say, 90 minutes."

I felt irritation swim through me. "You're kidding, right? Was anybody going to ask my opinion?"

Scott shrugged. "You were out cold. Brains had just given you something to help you sleep when we got the word. But hey, if you want, we can turn this ambulance around and head back to the airport. Up to you."

Yeah, like that was going to happen. Scott was a real expert at giving you choices that weren't choices. He knew damn well I wouldn't want to wait for four days. I grunted. "I just would like to be asked once in a while."

"I know. I'd feel the same if I were in your shoes. If it's any consolation, we'll be staying at the Mandarin Sky."

All I felt at that bit of news was sour grapes. "What's the point? If all I'm going to be doing is sleeping, I might as well be at a Motel 6."

Scott cocked his head. "How about if we stay an extra day or two? Give you a chance to get back on your feet?"

I felt my eyebrows go up. "Really? What about Virgil? What about the, uh, business?" I had to be circumspect in the presence of the stranger, who might or might not speak English.

Scott grinned wryly. "Virg is no fun when he has a concussion. You know that. And Dad has us totally shut down for at least a month."

"Oh, come on, there's no way we can stay offline that long."

"Actually, we have no choice. The minute Brains realized there was down time, he jumped Dad for a chance to do upgrades on One and Two."

"What about Four?"

"Oh, you know Brains. He'll find some goodies for you, too."

"The Mandarin Sky, huh?" I felt a smile start. Partially because the Mandarin Sky was a fabulous place to stay. Not strictly a hotel, it was a hundred and fifty stories of shopping malls, restaurants, nightclubs and entertainment venues. It was kind of a grownup, high end Las Vegas, and the two times I'd stayed there, I'd gotten totally caught up in the energy and life. The real reason for the smile was because I'd be there with Scott. I wasn't a little kid anymore, but I still loved having one-on-one time with him. This could be fun.

"Yup. Just the three of us kicking back for four fabulous days and nights."

I frowned and glanced at the stranger who gave no indication that he'd understood a word we were saying. 'Uh, three?"

Scott grinned when he saw my glance. "Yes. John is picking up a car in case we want to see the sights."

I could feel Scott's eyes boring into me, trying to gauge my reaction. I did a bit of a soul search myself, but the fear was gone. Still… "He tried to unman me, Scott."

My innocent delivery got the response I wanted. Scott busted out in a full laugh. "Unman you?" He hooted. "You've been looking at that thesaurus again, haven't you?"

"Hey, I know all sorts of words. I don't need a thesaurus. But that's beside the point. He really tried to hurt me, Scott. He's never done that before."

Scott gave me a look. "No? What about the time you dumped the soda on his laptop and ruined his thesis? How about the time you convinced Stephanie Wilkins that he didn't want to take her to the Prom? And what about the time you used his telescope as a baseball bat? What about…"

"Okay, okay! Enough, already!" I shook my head. "I really can't explain it to you, Scotty. All those times when we were kids, it was just regular pissed off John. In the infirmary, it was like… like mega pissed off John. He would have killed me if he could have."

Scott sat back and cocked his head to the side. "Must have been scary."

"Yeah, it was then, but I'm over it now."

Scott nodded, satisfied, then looked up as the ambulance came to a halt. "Okay, we're here. You just relax and let us do all the work."

Like I had a choice. The stranger moved to the back of the ambulance and opened the doors. Warm air flooded in, and I could hear the echoes of a parking garage. I gritted my teeth as they pulled my stretcher out. Unlike International Rescue's hover stretchers, this was just a standard wheeled gurney. The stranger and another guy, probably the driver, tried to be gentle, but there were thumps I felt all the way up my spine.

Once we were out of the ambulance, they started wheeling me to a bank of elevators, Scott walking protectively by my side. I frowned as I saw a welcoming sign above the elevators. "Wait, I thought we were going straight to the doctor. Why are we here?"

Scott smiled. "This place has one stop shopping. The hotel is on floors 86 to 114, but floors 25 to 43 are dedicated to medical services, including Dr. Zheng's office and surgery."

"Zheng? His name is Zheng?"

"Actually, her name."

"Scott, I don't want to be wheeled through the lobby with everyone staring and stuff. Let me up. I'll just walk."

"Who said anything about a lobby? You're going up the freight elevator with the rest of the dry goods."

Sure enough, the two ambulance guys wheeled me past the bank of elevators, and around the corner to a darker, grittier area where there were several freight elevators. They picked the third one from the end, and soon we were whisked upwards through the bowels of the building.

We reached our destination with a soft tone, and the doors opened onto a reception area that had me thinking we were on the wrong floor. It looked more like the hotel we'd be staying at later, with warm earth tones, and flower arrangements everywhere. I kept waiting to get that whiff of hospital clinic, but it didn't happen.

Scott went over to the desk and spoke to the receptionist, and the ambulance men started wheeling me down this hallway lined with good quality oil paintings and sitting areas with comfortable looking chairs and sofas. They wheeled me into a room that might have been for consultations, or for massages for all I could tell. The two men left without ever having said a word.

They were hardly through the door before a guy about my age came in wearing blue scrubs. "Mr. Tracy? My name is Dr. Wu. I'll be your anesthesiologist today. Now, I've reviewed your records, but let me ask, have you ever had any reaction to sedation before?"

"Uh, no, Doc."

Wu nodded, and turned to a table by the wall. When he turned back, my mouth went dry. "Wait? Already? Doesn't the doctor want to examine me or something?"

Wu smiled. "Dr. Zheng has reviewed the records, and will perform the examination in the operating room. Do not worry. Zheng Lien Hua is one of the finest surgeons in the world. She will repair your unfortunate injury so well that it will be as if it never happened."

I'd worry less if this guy didn't sound so much like a shill. He took my stillness for permission to continue, and before I knew it, I was sliding back into La La Land.


	32. Chapter 32

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Damn. I was still in that same room. Something must have gone wrong. I smacked my lips to get up enough moisture to call for help. Suddenly, there was a glass of water with a straw in front of me. I looked up and saw John holding it. He moved the straw to my lips, and I took a couple of sips. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"What happened? What went wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what went wrong? Why didn't they do the operation?"

Scott moved into my line of sight. "They did do it. You've been out for a couple of hours."

That was a shocker. I could have sworn I'd only nodded off for a few minutes. "Really? Wow. So, what did the doctor say? How soon can we get out of here?"

A frown flitted across Scott's face, but then he smiled. "They said as soon as you were awake to call the nurse, and they'd release you."

"That fast? Cool. Can I get up?"

"Let's wait for the nurse, okay, Squirt?" John had a carefully neutral face.

I pulled a face. "I am going to be able to walk, right? I'm not going to be married to this stretcher all week, right?"

"As we understand it, you'll be needing crutches for a couple of days," Scott replied. The door opened behind him, and another young guy dressed in scrubs bustled in.

"Ah, Mr. Tracy, you are awake. Very good, sir. Allow me to check your vitals then a therapist will be in to teach you how to use crutches."

We all three smiled at that. "Actually, I don't really need the training, Doc. I have experience."

The doctor was listening to my chest with his stethoscope. He completed that, and the pulse, and the eye response, all without ever cracking a smile. Once he was done, it was like he switched gears, because the smile came back and he said, "Ah yes, I had read of your previous exploits in your file. Please allow the therapist to do his job, then we will allow you to go to your room."

He bustled out, leaving me and my brothers staring after him. "Is it just me, or does it feel like I'm on a medical assembly line?"

"Not big on the human touch, are they?" John smiled wryly.

"Hey, you're the one who doesn't like hospitals. One would think that you'd appreciate a quick in and out." Leave it to Scott to be pragmatic.

"I guess. So, the doctor did say the operation was a success? I'm going to be okay?"

"The doctor didn't. A doctor did," John muttered sarcastically.

Scott shrugged. "Dr. Zheng never put in an appearance. Her assistant came out and told us it was a success. They're even going to give us a video of the whole thing. I don't know, it was kind of unsettling, but Dr. Carraker has total faith in her, so who are we to argue?"

"Paying customers?" John cocked an eyebrow.

The door opened again, and this time a young woman in the ubiquitous blue scrubs came in carrying a pair of crutches, and an oddly shaped pillow. "Mr. Tracy? My name is Wei Qiao. Would you like to sit up?"

Finally. "Yes, please."

She smiled at the earnestness in my voice. "All right. There is a trick to it. See this pillow? This pillow will be your best friend for the next several days. It will allow you to sit upright without putting pressure on the wound site. It is very important that you do not sit directly on the sutures. You do not want to tear them open. If you do, it may be impossible to repair the wound a second time. And besides, it will hurt." She grinned at me.

I could like this woman. I'd gotten more information from her in one minute than I had in the entire conversation with Dr. Wu. "Okay, so hurt is bad."

"Yes, hurt is bad. Now, did they tell you about the procedure at all? No? Well, let me say this, Dr. Zheng is really the best in the business. She uses biosynthetic micro fibers to actually bond the individual muscle fibers together. It's an amazing process, made even more amazing by the speed of recovery. If you do what I say, and take care of yourself, you'll be totally healed within a matter of a week. You'll be able to run, jump, swim, have sex, all as you did before. It's a miracle, really."

Unlike the anesthesiologist, it didn't sound like a commercial coming from this woman. Her enthusiasm was real, and I suddenly realized just how lucky I was.

"Okay, now, when you are supine, you want to place the pillow just so. Very good. Hold it there, now swing your legs out of the bed, and put your buttocks cheek on the pillow. Good. Now, if you are just going to sit, you'll want to stand for a moment and reposition the pillow. Let me help you up."

Her hands were small, warm, and very strong. "Try to keep the weight off your leg. That's right. Now, turn the pillow around so that this ridge here is in line with the separation of your buttocks. Very good. Now, sit. Excellent. How does that feel?"

"Kind weird, but no pain." The pillow seemed to be custom designed to fit the contours of my bottom, and in truth, it was almost comfortable.

She nodded, and reached for the crutches. "Now, I understand you've used these before. Show me how you get up with them."

A pop quiz? Well, I could do that. I positioned the crutches, and pulled myself up in one smooth motion. That garnered me a smile and positive nod of the head. "Very good. I can see you have good upper body strength. Now, I understand you are staying at the Sky Imperial Suites. I will bring a wheelchair, and then you can go."

"Can't I just walk out?"

She looked at me oddly, and said, "No, we prefer that you use the wheelchair as much as possible. At least until you can be, uh, properly attired."

I looked down at myself, and only then realized I was in a hospital gown. Oh boy. Now that I was paying attention, I realized I was only wearing the gown. Geez, and I wanted to go humping down the hall with it all flapping it the breeze.

I looked up at my brothers, who had both been standing by the window while the therapist talked to me. I could tell they were enjoying themselves way too much. I sighed. "I don't suppose you two remembered to bring along my clothes, did you?"

They both guffawed, and John produced a plastic bag from behind the bed. "Boxers, cargo pants and a shirt."

"Good enough. Toss it here."

"Whoa. You're going to have to put up with a little help there, Squirt." Scott moved toward me.

My normal inclination was to say no thanks, but Scott had that subtle look on his face. The one that said he thought he'd failed me somehow. If letting him hold my undies got rid of that look, I was willing to put up with a little humiliation. "Okay. Um, how about you pull up my shorts for me?"

"How about, I'll steady you, and John can pull up your shorts?"

"That works." Johnny knelt down, and with Scott's strong arm around my waist, I lifted my good foot for a second so that John could slip the boxers on. It only took a moment, and then I was decently covered up. And it was just in time, because no sooner were the boxers up than the therapist came strolling in pushing a wheelchair.

Aware of the audience, my brothers and I finished getting my pants on, then with the help of the crutches, I moved to the wheelchair. Scott carefully positioned my pillow, and I managed to sit down without dropping like a stone. John handed me the shirt, then reached in the bag and pulled out my shoes and socks. I pulled on the shirt, and my brothers got me into my shoes.

I noticed John wasn't looking so hot, but with the therapist in the room, I didn't want to say anything. The therapist had watched the entire dressing ritual and now nodded her head in satisfaction. "I can see you will be well cared for. For the remainder of the day, please rest. We will see you tomorrow afternoon at 3pm to follow up. If at anytime, the pain becomes bad, or if you start to feel heat in the wound site, return here immediately. There is someone on staff at all times. You understand, yes?"

"Yup. Fever or pain, come back, otherwise take it easy until tomorrow at three." Scott did the answering, speaking in that ever so firm voice that told me he was going to enforce this with a stick if necessary. And actually, I didn't really mind. I felt alert enough, but underneath it all, I could feel the exhaustion waiting to pull me down.

Finally we were allowed to leave. John was pale and quiet, and I think Scott noticed it as much as I did. Scott wheeled me to an elevator that had a thumbprint pass on it. John used his thumb, and within a few moments, the elevator silently opened. There was a couple on board dressed to the nines, looking down their noses at our casual beachwear.

I could care less. Yes, through Dad, we were wealthy enough to stay on the ultra-exclusive, and expensive upper floors of the skyscraper. But none of us were so taken with money that we thought it made better us in any way shape or form than the folks on the 20th or 30th floor hotels.

What did bug me was that I couldn't ask John what was wrong. I felt like I'd just gotten him back after a long frightening absence, and I didn't want anything to make him leave me again. Geez, that sounded whiny, didn't it? Crap.

Ha! To the snooty couple's surprise, their floor came up before ours. They got off with looks of disgruntled curiosity. I just smiled pleasantly at them, knowing full well that Scott and John were doing the same. As the doors shut, we all three snickered. My brothers and I weren't stuck up and snooty, but that didn't mean we couldn't enjoy putting snobs in their place.

Before I could say anything to John, our floor came up, and Scott pushed me out into the hallway. Oh, yeah, this was exclusive territory. It wasn't a hallway at all. It was a foyer with three doors. John turned to the left and used his thumb to get us into the suite. I noticed as Scott moved me forward that the suite didn't have a number, only a name. The Golden Dragon was the name of the tastefully discreet plaque next to the door. Oh brother.

In the room, the lights came up automatically displaying a living room the size of most houses. I felt Scott freeze momentarily, then move me forward into the center of the room. I knew how he felt. This was one of those rooms that cost a small fortune for a single night. Not really our style. "Um, John, isn't this a bit, um…"

John, who had been checking out an in-house computer that controlled the lighting, shades and stuff, looked up. "No, this is seriously um. Dad called in a favor to get us an upgrade. You guys come over here so we can get your thumbprints registered."

Wow. This was bizarre. Dad never called in favors. And especially never called in favors to do something like this. Scott and I moved over to the computer, where John had set up a screen to register. I put my thumb on the blinking red square and after a moment, it turned green. Scott did the same thing.

Formalities over, we looked around. I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but Scott lifted his hand to stop me. He turned to John and said, "Okay, let's hear it."

John never liked being put on the spot. His reply was sullen. "Hear what?"

"Johnny, you were okay, but then you got all quiet on us. 'Sup, bro?" I hoped a friendlier approach would open him up. John was Missouri mule-class stubborn when he wanted to be, and if he dug in his heels, we'd never get it out of him.

He glanced at me, then looked away. He started a couple of times to say something, but stopped. Finally, he ran his hand through his hair, and still not looking at either of us, said, "I got a look at the damage I caused."

I nodded. "Yeah, I felt the same way when I saw Al with his jaw all swollen. But you know what was even worse? The look on Grandma's face after Dad had let me up. She looked terrified. Of me. It just about broke me, I'll tell you."

Scott took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Dad had that same look when he saw me. I could have just shot myself then and there. I never ever want to see that look on his face again. Or anybody else's. Never."

John listened to our confessions, and looked over at me. "Gordy, I can't tell you how sorry I am."

I grinned, evilly. "Oh, you have no idea how sorry you're going to be, Crotch Monkey."

John's look went flat. "Okay, that is your official jab. You've had it, and you will never use it again, if you value your submarine."

My eyes flew wide at that. "What? What do you mean, my submarine?"

"If you ever call me that again, no, if you ever call me any name related to this incident, I will upload a virus into Thunderbird Four that will send it out to the deepest trench in the ocean, and scuttle it."

I grinned. "Ooooo, that's a good threat, Johnny. It'll work on me, but I have to tell ya, I'm not the one who came up with crotch monkey, and if you try that with his bird, he'll harm you."

John narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

I smiled sweetly. "You'll just have to find out."

He looked at me. "Did you know I can remotely program a stink bomb to go off?"

"You can try it. Of course, then I'd have to retaliate. You really want to go mano a mano with me?"

"All right, you guys. You are both prank masters of the universe. Back it down. John, which room is Gordon's?" Scott took big brother command.

John pointed his finger at me, but then turned and said, "It's this one over here. Your clothes have all been unpacked for you. Speaking of clothes, the bad news is Grandma says we're not to come home without a new suit each."

I pulled a face, and Scott rolled his eyes. None of us were what you would call clothes horses, and shopping was not high on our lists of favorite things to do. Scott grabbed the wheelchair and started pushing me toward the room John pointed out. "Wait, Scott, I'm okay. Can't we just talk for a while?"

"Actually, I want a full debrief from you of everything that happened. But I want you off your butt. We'll just get you settled, then we're going to have a little chat."

"Uh, for the record, I'm not really on my butt. I'm sort of on my butt crack."

"T.M.I., Gordon. Now come on, let's get you settled."

We entered the alleged bedroom and looked around. Yeah, there was a bed in it, but I swear, if you moved it aside, you could have had a full basketball court. I heard Scott's soft sigh at the extravagance of it, but he didn't say anything. Don't get me wrong, we all liked luxury as much as the next guy, but there was luxury and there was ostentation, and this place was ostentatious to the max.

John looked around, and said, "Well, at least we'll be able to impress girls."

"John, the last girl you impressed almost ate you alive." That slipped out before I thought. Both my brothers froze for a moment.

But Johnny wasn't one to let a mere near death experience bother him. He grinned. "True. Maybe we'll just make it a guy's trip. Poker, beer and strippers."

"Works for me!" I said brightly, knowing full well it would bring out the Dad Look on Scotty's face.

I wasn't disappointed. Scott had an uncanny ability to look more Dad than Dad. But after a moment, a smirk appeared. "I've never in my life had to pay for sex, and I'm not about to start now."

John nodded as if this was the answer he expected. He turned to me. "So, you've been here before. What's the best nightclub for picking up girls?"

Wait a minute… "Are you two dumping me? Is that what this is?"

"No." Scott's reply was firm. "John, if you want to go out, you can, but I'm staying right here. Gordon, I meant it when I said I wanted a full debrief. I want to know every damn thing that happened while I was out of it. Nightclubs and parties can wait for tomorrow."

John thought it over, and then nodded. "You're right. I need to know all about it too. Gordy, I have this kind of dream-like recollection of you telling me I made Grandma cry. I don't remember that happening, and I want a good description of what went on so I can apologize."

"Okay, so tonight we talk and tomorrow night we party." I nodded, then worked to get up out of the wheelchair.

Before I was upright, I had two strong arms helping me, and Scott grabbed my pillow with one hand, and John pulled down the blankets on the bed with one hand, and all I had to do was pivot and make sure I hit the pillow just right. I could've done the whole thing on my own, but sometimes it's just nice to let someone help you.

I sat down on the bed, swung my legs up, and immediately rolled to my belly. Scott got me an extra pillow for under my chest so I could push myself up on my forearms comfortably. When I was settled, John pulled up the room service menu, and after consultation, ordered up half of the items on the extensive tapas menu. Thus provisioned, we settled down and I told my brothers a horror story worse than any B-grade zombie flick offered over the in room entertainment system.


	33. Chapter 33

Oh God. I cracked open my eye at the sunlight streaming in from the wall-sized window. Why hadn't I shut the blinds last night? Damn, my butt hurt, my back hurt, my head hurt, and my mouth tasted like something had died in it.

I was so stiff, I could hardly push myself up. But the demands of nature insisted on me moving, and pretty damn fast if I didn't want to embarrass myself. I started to sit up, then remembered the pillow. For a fleeting moment I thought to hell with it, but then decided I wasn't going to risk tearing anything down there. It hurt enough as it was.

Aw, who decided to move those crutches all the way over there? Damn it. Well, I couldn't just stay where I was. I gauged the distance to be at least four good hops. I took a deep breath, and pushed myself up off the bed, trying desperately not to put my foot down.

I was still trying to get my balance, when my bedroom door whisked silently open, and Scott peeked around the doorjamb. As soon as he saw me, he came striding across the room. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be standing up."

"Grab me my crutches, would you? I need to hit the head."

Sudden understanding wiped the frown from my brother's face, and he swiftly brought the crutches. I took them with relief, and moved with alacrity to the bathroom. Scott followed behind, asking, "You going to need any help?"

If I hadn't been in such need, I would have come up with a snappy rejoinder, but as it was, all I said was no. It only took me a few minutes to do what had to be done, and soon I was standing in front of the fancy wash basin staring at myself in the mirror. I looked like I felt. I probably should stay away from playgrounds, or I'd be sending the little ones screaming.

There was a house mouthwash there that at least cleared the guck from my mouth. And a wipe with a washcloth cleared the sleep from my eyes. I looked longingly at the shower, but I'd had stitches often enough to know not to get my butt wet.

I hit the door control and as soon as it opened, Scott was there with the wheelchair and pillow. I smiled my thanks and did the ol' pivot and drop. Scott pushed me out of the bedroom, and over to a sliding glass door. "It's a pretty morning. You want to sit out of the balcony for a while?"

Feeling like I did, it was hard to get up any enthusiasm for anything, but it'd be rude not to be thankful when my brother was being so attentive, so I nodded. "Sure, sounds good."

He opened the door and pushed me out. He was right. It was pretty out. There was a touch of coolness to the air, and from somewhere, a scent of flowers wafted by. Scott left me for a moment, and came back with a tray set with a coffeepot and three mugs. He set the tray down, and poured two mugs full, and handed me mine.

Oh yeah, that hit the spot. Scott pulled up a chair, and we sat in silence watching the sun come up. I looked over at my big brother, and saw a pinched look around his eyes. I felt guilty, because it was my uncompromising narration the night before that had put that look on his face. "You okay?"

He started, and took a deep breath. "Sure. It's hard to take it all in, but knowing that we survived helps a lot. You know I meant what I said last night, right?"

"Scott, with the possible exception of Grandma, we all behaved badly, and we are all pretty damn sorry. Don't take it all on your shoulders, okay? There's plenty of blame to go around," I said. It had sounded better in my mind, than when I said it, but Scott got the idea.

He nodded his head, and said, "I'll tell you what. When we get home, we'll have a good, old-fashioned brother conference. We'll all say we're sorry, then we'll let it slide."

"Okay." I nodded, then smiled slyly. "Be sure to let it slip to Grandma that we're doing it, though."

Scott waggled his eyebrows, a grin on his face. Grandma always felt that our brother conferences deserved snacks, usually a pie or cake. I shifted in my chair, and the grin left his face. "Pretty painful?"

"Ah, well, you know."

"Actually I don't, if you don't tell me. Did you sleep at all?"

"That's the problem. I slept like a damn log. I probably didn't move at all last night, and I'm all seized up."

He nodded, then got up. "Wait here."

Oh, Lord, now what? I sat enjoying the sunrise, wondering what my brother was up to. After a few minutes there was a rumbling clatter, and low voices behind me. I couldn't get up the energy to care, let alone turn and look.

In less than ten minutes, Scott was back, releasing the brake on my wheelchair. "Come on."

"Where to?"

He swung me around, and to my surprise, there was a tiny woman in a white uniform in the living room, standing next to what could only be a massage table. "A massage? At six in the morning?"

"It ought to help, don't you think?"

"Sure, but at six in the morning?"

"Let's just get you on the table." Scott pushed the wheelchair to the massage table, and with his help, I was soon on my belly, and the woman had started slowly working out the kinks in my back and shoulders. She was no bigger than my grandma, but like Grandma, she was mighty. Her hands were like steel wrapped in velvet, and it wasn't long before my muscles started to relax.

I'd practically nodded off under the woman's ministrations, when John popped into the room. "Oh, man, I got dibs on her next."

"Gordon doesn't have a choice, John, but I'll be damned if that poor woman is going to have to rub your filthy body. Go take a shower."

I watched as John feigned indignation, sniffed his armpit, then pulled a disgusted face. He pulled himself up tall, and walked away. I had to grin. Johnny always knew how to make me laugh, and Scott, too. By the time the woman was done with me, John was back, wearing only a towel around his waist.

While John enjoyed his massage, Scott trundled me into the bedroom and helped me get dressed. "The massage help?"

"Yeah, I feel a lot better. I'll feel better still when I can take a shower."

Scott smiled sympathetically. "I know what you're saying. It's the worst part of being injured, isn't it?"

"Well, other than the gut-wrenching pain, of course."

"There is that. How are you doing in that department, by the way? You've got that prescription for painkillers that the doctor gave you. You want to take something?"

I considered the idea. I really disliked taking anything, but my butt was pretty sore, and I knew from experience that my muscles would eventually stiffen up in reaction to the pain. "No. I don't want to sleep all day. But maybe I'd better take some aspirin or something."

"As it happens, I have the 'something' right here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of pills.

He tipped a couple into my hand, and turned to the bedside table to get me some water. I smiled with relief when I saw that the pills were one of Brains' wonder drugs. They gave pretty good pain relief without any of the side effects of more aggressive drugs. "Thanks."

Just knowing that the drugs were going to wipe out that nasty shooting pain in my butt, and also take care of the lingering headache, I was ready to face the day. I grinned up at my brother. "So, where we going for breakfast?"

Scott smiled, and moved to take control of the wheelchair. "You know, there's this place that Virg and I went to a couple of years ago. I've been craving their nut buns since we got here."

"Excellent. I could stand a nut bun or two."

We entered the living room, only to find John standing there, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He looked at Scott and said quietly, "Your turn."

"For what?"

John turned to present the massage table like it was a prize on a game show. "The magic fingers await."

"I'll pass. Gordon's hungry."

"Hey, I'm not that hungry. I can wait. Go ahead. She's really good."

"That's okay. I don't really need a massage."

I felt my eyebrows go up. John shook his head and waggled a finger at our big brother. "You don't trust us."

"What?"

"You heard me. You don't trust us. You had a scare, and now you think you have to go all big dog on us and not let your guard down. You think if you relax and have a massage that something might happen to one of us."

"No," Scott said in that particularly patient voice, "I just want a nut bun. Come with us, have one, and you'll see why I don't want to delay."

Aw geez. A pissing contest was about to ensue. I could feel it in my bones. My poor, aching hungry bones. John had that look on his face that said he knew he was right, and he was going to argue until Scott gave in and agreed with him. Scott, of course, had his 'no way in hell' look.

They stood squaring off. With a sigh, I pulled out my cell and called home, carelessly hitting the speaker button. "Hey, Al, how you doing?"

"Gordy! I'm fine. In fact, I'm thinking about flying up to meet up with you guys."

"Well, can you come right now? I'm getting hungry, and I want to go to breakfast."

"Aw, did they dump you already? I thought they'd at least spend a day with you."

"I heard that," Scott was frowning fiercely at me.

I ignored him, and also John, whose face was blank with irritation. "No, they're both here, they just prefer debating to eating. You know how they are."

"Yeah, I do. So what's the debate?"

"The relative merits of massages and nut buns."

"Nut buns? What the hell are nut buns?"

"Not sure. I had knot buns this morning but the massage worked them out."

"Not buns? Like not healthy?"

"No, no, my buns are quite healthy, if a bit holey."

"Holy buns? Maybe you should go to church."

"Give me that." Scott snatched the phone away and took it off speaker. "Alan, how is Virgil? Uh-huh. Well, you promised me you'd stay there with him. No, we're not going to church, we're going to breakfast. Have a good day."

Scott disconnected, and handed me back my phone, with a warning glare. I batted my eyes, and said innocently, "We're getting buns, right?"

John snorted a laugh, and Scott just rolled his eyes. They caught each other's eyes and came to a silent agreement. Scott started pushing me to the door, and John said a few words in Chinese to the masseuse, who smiled and started packing up.

We didn't wait. We hit the elevator and headed down to the executive garage. I wasn't sure how I felt about the security in this building. I mean, it was nice to be able to leave our rooms with total confidence that our things would be untouched in our absence. And, sure, it was nice not to be crowded in the elevator. But somehow the absolute separation from the huddled masses tweaked at my egalitarian senses.

If it bothered either of my brothers, they didn't show it. John leaned casually against the handrail, and Scott stood firmly holding onto my wheelchair. Dropping over one hundred stories takes time, even in a high speed elevator, but soon enough, we'd reached the garage.

The doors opened onto a valet area, and John fished out a tag from his jeans. A young kid looking barely old enough to drive took the tag and trotted away. I looked out over a sea of limousines and high end sports cars, and wondered what my brother had rented for us. Knowing John, it could easily be an old clunker just so it would stand out.

With a screech of wheels on the concrete floor, our ride appeared. I heard a slight sigh of relief from my brother behind me. It was a van. The kid pulled it up, and apparently hit a button, because the side door opened up, and a wheelchair lift dropped down. The kid hopped out and moved to try and help me in, but that wasn't going to happen with my two big brothers there.

John manned the lift controls while Scott guided the chair onboard. I bit my tongue through the entire procedure. My brothers both knew my feelings about being treated as an invalid, and they worked to do the job without any unnecessary fuss.

Once my chair was locked down, my brothers both predictably headed for the driver's seat. They practically collided, and the glares were immediate. I quickly made a show of pulling out my cell, and hitting a speed dial number. "Grandma?"

They weren't going to fall for it. Scott used his big guns. "I know how to get to the restaurant. I'm driving."

John was always a sucker for a logical argument. "Fine."

It didn't take a genius to see that the argument would start again as soon as breakfast was over, but I was content for now that we were in accord. Scott took us out onto the busy city streets. I loved Singapore. It had such energy, it could recharge your batteries just by driving around.

Both John and I were doing the total looky-loo thing, pointing out different things that caught our eyes. Scott might have figured out he got the worst of the deal, because with all the traffic and pedestrians, he had to really keep his eyes on the road.

It took him awhile, and I suspect, at least one wrong turn before he pulled up in front of a series of shops. I couldn't see a restaurant from where we were, but I just assumed the problem was parking, and that this was as close as he could get us.

Once we were parked, and I was out of the van, he started pushing me toward what looked like an electronics store. "Are we making a detour?"

"You'll see," my brother said smugly.

John and I exchanged a glance, then with a shrug, John pulled open the door. We moved into the typically loud and frantic atmosphere of a consumer electronics store. As Scott pushed me down the aisle, I saw everything from virtual computers to wall-size immersive entertainment centers.

The place was huge, and at one point, Scott made a particularly poor choice of aisles, and we landed up waiting as John had to pore over every little gadget in the row. Scott was patient for only so long, before he just started pushing again, leaving John behind.

We finally got to the back of the store, and came to a glass door with a push button control. Scott hit the button, and the door whooshed open. He pushed me into this small glass enclosed foyer, and once in, hit another control, which closed the first door, and opened a second.

My jaw practically dropped. The store with its glaring white lights and its bone thumping noise was replaced by a tranquil garden. Scott guided me forward, and we came to a standard restaurant podium, manned by a smiling middle-aged man. Scott told him that we had a third person in our party, and the man pulled out some menus and led the way.

It was incredible. The space was large, with actual trees growing under the high glass ceiling. The tables were set so that each was like in its own little clearing. The scent of rain and jasmine permeated the air. It was just a beautiful place. Once we were seated, I asked, "How the hell did you and Virgil find this place?"

Scott smiled wryly. "Remember when Virg was in his electronic phase?"

I nodded. For a few months back a year or so ago, Virgil had gotten obsessed with the idea of synthesizer music. He'd gotten a bunch of gear, worked like a madman to learn how to use it, then suddenly decided it wasn't for him.

"Well, this place sells upgrade items for electronic keyboards, so we were in here shopping, when we saw people going in and out of this place. One of the people coming out had this paper bag that just smelled so damn good that we had to check it out."

I looked around. "John's never going to find us here."

Scott snorted. "We'll eat our breakfast and be back out there before he even knows we're gone."

I grinned and opened up my menu. Whoa. The first page was devoted entirely to coffee. "Wow, look at all this coffee! Geez, and another page with just tea. Do you suppose the owner was thirsty when he made up the menu?"

Scott rolled his eyes, then looked over at a passing waitress. She obligingly came over, and Scott ordered a pot of the good stuff. "And can we have a plate of the steamed nut buns, please?"

The waitress smiled and walked away. My cell rang, and I pulled it out, grinning when I saw it was John. "Hey, Johnny."

"Where the hell did you guys go?" John had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise of the store.

"We're in the restaurant. Why don't you come meet us."

I could hear the exasperated sigh, even over the noise. "Where are you?"

"We're in the restaurant. Don't worry, we told them there was a third wheel. They'll bring you right on back."

Scott gave me a look, and held out his hand. I turned over the phone. He put it up to his ear, and apparently got an earful. He waited until John ran down, and said, "John, go to the back wall of the store. There's a glass door with a lotus flower on it. That's the restaurant."

Scott handed my phone back, and I tried a pout. "You never let me have any fun."

He eyed me. "Do you really want to deal with a cranky John all day? It's not like the island, where you can get away from him."

"Good point."

The waitress returned with our coffee, and a platter full of tiny little buns. She put down the platter, and started pouring our coffee, when the man appeared, guiding a decidedly grumpy looking John. He sat

down, and allowed the waitress to pour him a cup and withdraw before saying, "Before we leave, I have to do some shopping here."

"Try these buns," Scott replied mildly, popping one into his mouth.

I tried one, and immediately understood why Scott had been craving them. They were sweet and nutty, fluffy, and they melt in your mouth. I'd thought the platter was large, but between the three of us, we had it down to crumbs in no time.

When the waitress returned, we ordered our breakfast, and another platter of buns. The second platter lasted no longer than the first, so it was a good thing that the service was prompt. I had this lobster casserole thing that would have been great as a lunch or dinner, but was totally decadent for breakfast. My brothers both opted for a more conventional meal, but I know they were both jealous of mine. We ate and talked about the day ahead, deciding that we might as well get the clothes shopping out of the way. John reminded us a couple of times that he wanted to get some stuff here at this store, and I said I was hoping we could go to the Immersion Theater to see Avatar Four.

Scott was pretty mellow about it all, agreeing to everything we suggested. He did say he wanted to check out one of the restaurants at the Mandarin Sky, and we decided that we'd do that after my appointment at the clinic.

A well-fed hour later, I was the de facto shopping cart as John piled boxes of laser gear in my lap. It was only when he grunted lifting a box that I put my foot down. "Don't be thinking you're going to put that on my lap, John. I've reached my weight and size maximums."

John looked lost. "But I still need this other stuff."

Scott shook his head, and said slowly and clearly, "Put the box down, and go get a shopping cart."

I had to bite my lip to swallow the smile. John was really just about the smartest man I'd ever met, outside of Brains, but he had this problem with focus. Not that he couldn't focus, but that he tended to focus so intently that sometimes it was an effort for him to shift gears.

I had no doubt that he was mentally building whatever it was that he needed all this stuff for, and he couldn't break the focus to understand what Scott was saying. He just stood there looking slightly bewildered.

Scott stared at him for a few moments, then shook his head and asked me, "You going to be all right if I leave you for a few moments?"

I chuckled. "Hurry before he has a meltdown."

Scott trotted off, and pretty much before John realized he was gone, came back with one of those big industrial trolleys. Seeing the trolley, the light went back on in John's eyes, and he put the heavy box on it, and turned to get his next purchase. Scott helped me unload my lap, and we were ready to roll.

John was still power shopping, pulling things off the shelf and putting them on the trolley. For a moment Scott looked conflicted. John was moving down the aisle, and there were both the trolley and the wheelchair to push. I solved the problem for him by simply grabbing the wheels of my chair and moving myself.

Scott and I followed along behind John as he selected more items for his pile. "Do you suppose he's building a bomb?"

Scott shook his head. "Naw. No explosives. Probably a perpetual motion machine."

"Or maybe a girl. Do you suppose he's building himself a girl?"

"I guess we'll know when we get to the tailor's. If he starts looking at pink silk, we'll have our answer."

"Yeah, you say that like he wouldn't want pink silk for himself."

Scott snickered, then shook his head. "Don't start. You never know when he'll surface."

I looked ahead to where my brother was inspecting two apparently identical electric components before deciding on just one. "Yeah, like that's going to happen anytime soon."

As if in response to my remark, John turned and gazed at the considerable pile of items on the trolley. If the glassy eyes were any indication, he was trying to decide if he'd forgotten anything. Suddenly he let out a breath, and nodded. Looking up as if just seeing us for the first time, he said, "Okay, I've got everything I want. You guys done?"

"Yeah. We're good." Scott smiled. "You want to come take the cart, and Gordon and I will head out to the car?"

"Okay."

"John, have them deliver it to the hotel, right? We don't need to lug it all with us all day."

"Yeah, okay," John said, a bit reluctantly. It was a good move on Scott's part. If the stuff was all in the van, John wouldn't be able to resist puttering with it.

As we headed for the cashier, I saw something and snagged it. I held it up for John to see. "Hey, Johnny, don't you need these?"

He looked over at the package of two AA batteries, and I swear, his eyes went wide. "Oh, God, yes! Thanks, Gordy!"

To my surprise he snatched my joke item right out of my hands and carefully balanced it on the pile on the trolley. Scott and I just rolled our eyes. We left John at the cashier, and headed out to the van.


	34. Chapter 34

Scott got me settled and by the time John came out, trailing a long register receipt, was already in the driver's seat, forestalling any argument. John hardly even noticed, just piling into the passenger seat, his mind a million miles away. Scott pulled out into traffic, and said, "GPS, directions to Ehkay Corner Tailoring."

We'd already agreed to go to our Dad's favorite tailor. Mainly because none of us wanted to figure out where else to go. Besides, the people there were nice, and they didn't take all day measuring and stuff. The last time I'd been there was right before my 21st birthday. Grandma had wanted me to have a good suit for the party.

Scott had called them yesterday, and because we were getting multiple suits, but more importantly, because we had the cachet of the Tracy name, we had a 'floating' appointment, meaning we could show up any time we wanted to.

We headed across town, and landed up driving through the marina district. Although high rise buildings cut off any sight of the water, I could smell it in the air. There were a few stores along this road that could capture my attention just as totally as the electronics store had caught John.

We were in a long line of traffic waiting for a particularly short stop light. I was fine with it. There was a nautical supply store with lots of good stuff in the windows to look at. I was just about ready to tell Scott to pull over, when my heart stopped.

There, walking down the street, was the woman. It was her. I had had no memory whatsoever of what had happened at the farmhouse from the time the woman had looked at me until I woke up in the infirmary. But as I looked out, it was like one of those movies where everything suddenly telescopes and you see it all as if close up. It was like being hit by a Mack truck full of nightmares.

I started breathing hard, and I know my face flushed. John apparently heard, because he turned in his seat, and asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

I couldn't answer him. It was like I was afraid if I took my eyes off of her, she'd strike out at me. I barely heard John telling Scott to pull over. The woman was just even with us, walking away, her stringy gray hair and flabby breasts and belly somehow obscene in the cheap, outdated catsuit she was wearing.

Suddenly, Scott was in my line of vision. "Gordon? What's wrong? Talk to me."

I didn't even think about it. I just blurted out, "It's her."

"Who?"

"The succubus. She's right over there."

"What? Where?" Scott's head whipped around.

I pointed a shaking finger. "There, in the purple."

Scott frowned, but it was John who said, "You've got to be kidding me. That old hag?"

Scott's eyes never left the woman, but he asked in a low growl, "Gordon, are you absolutely sure?"

That tone of voice startled me. I looked over at my brother, and saw him reach for the door handle, and I knew exactly what he was going to do. The total panic that washed over me was nauseating. I grabbed hold of his arm with both hands. "NO! Scott, no! Haven't you heard anything I've said? You can't go anywhere near her! She'll catch you! Scott, she'll catch you!"

Scott turned to me, his face white, lips thinned with anger, or fear, or determination, I couldn't tell which. "Gordon, calm down. It's okay. I'm not going to get that close to her. But we can't let her get away. We can't let her start up another charnel house."

"Yeah? Do you have any idea how close is too close? Ten feet? Twenty? Scott, I'm telling you, there is no distance that is safe where that woman is concerned."

"Gordon, look around. There are hundreds of people walking these streets. You say you can be caught just by getting a whiff of some damn odor off of her? Well, she's apparently turned it off, because I don't see anyone following her, do you?"

"Scott, look at this guy over here," John said quietly. We both looked over at a young guy who had passed the succubus moments before. He was just standing there, with a blissed out look on his face. I felt my stomach churning at the site. Seeing us notice the guy, John continued. "She's brushing by certain people. And everyone that she's touched so far has that same look on their face. I think she's actively hunting."

Scott frowned. "Wait a minute, I thought she put out pheromones. Now you're saying she has to touch you?"

"Hard to say for sure, but look at that get up she's wearing. Gloves, high boots, catsuit. The only part of her skin that's exposed is her head. Maybe she wears that to keep from catching every man in sight. Gives her some anonymity, don't you think?"

"You sure it's only the people she touches?"

"Watch. See that guy walking toward her? He's young. He fits the profile."

I felt my gorge rise at the clinical detachment both of my brothers were showing. I was shaking hard by the time the man was level with the monster. Sure enough, she sort of swayed, just enough to make contact. The man continued on, but after a moment, his steps faltered, and that same creepy look of euphoria came across his face. I had to look away.

"Okay. If she needs to touch you, we can follow her on foot," Scott said with determination.

"Why?" I threw the question at my brother like a rock. "Why is it up to us? Why can't we just go home?"

John answered softly, "Gordy, look at this guy over here. And that one. And those two at the light. If we walk away from this, all of these guys are as good as dead. Do you want that on your conscience?"

I shook my head, why didn't they understand? "I don't want them to die, but I'll sacrifice a whole boatload of guys if that's what it takes to keep you two safe. You don't know what it was like. How we all felt when we weren't sure if we could rescue you. This thing is stronger than us, and if we try to fight it, we're going to lose."

Scott's look was totally inscrutable. He suddenly opened the door to the van and got out, saying, "She's going to get away. John, you follow me in the van. If I show any signs of getting any closer than forty feet, come get me. Knock me out if you have to, but don't let me get any closer to her. Gordon, you get on the horn to Dad, let him know what's happening.

I could have cried. Scott closed the door and started following the woman, who didn't appear to be in any particular hurry. John moved into the driver's seat, and started the engine, but made no move to pull out in traffic. He said, "Don't worry, it's going to be okay."

I don't know if I believed him or not. I couldn't remember a single time in my life when I hadn't had total faith in Scott's ability to handle any situation. I definitely didn't like the way I felt right now. I'd never been a coward, or at least, I'd never thought of myself as a coward, but this woman, this monster, scared me in ways I'd never been scared before.

I could understand intellectually that the woman had to be stopped. I understood that the men she was catching as she swayed along the street probably had families and friends who would be hurt if they were lost. I even understood that under the auspices of International Rescue, we were charged to save human lives wherever we could. I knew all that, but the woman still terrified me.

The succubus was a good two blocks ahead of us, and Scott was a block and a half ahead before John moved. He drove us past Scott and past the woman, and pulled into a parking garage some 200 feet further down the road. "Gordy, do you want me to call Dad?"

God, the sympathy in my brother's voice grated like new chalk on a blackboard. "No," I snapped at him. "I'll do it."

I pulled out my cell and hit the speed dial. "Gordon? How are you feeling, son?"

"Dad, we've found the succubus. She's here in Singapore."

"Dear God. Are you and your brothers all right? Are you safe?"

"Hell no. How can we be safe with that thing out there?"

John turned toward me, irritation on his face. He snatched the phone from my ear and took over the conversation. "Dad? Listen, we're about as safe as we can be. She's covered herself up and walking down the city street. Queenstown. No, we're sure. She's gathering victims, but she's being selective. She's only taking young men."

John shook his head as he spoke. "No, she's only catching the men she wants. She brushes against them, and within a few feet, they have a spaced out look. No, they don't follow her. I think that's probably what happened to me. She brushed against me somewhere. Well, we can't be sure, but my personal theory is this is the way she keeps from being found out. She tags her victims, but they don't come to her for a day or two. There's nothing to directly connect her to the eventual disappearance."

John listened for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Right now, Scott's following her on foot. Gordon and I are in a car… No, Dad, he thinks it's safe. He's staying well back. And if he gets any closer to her, I'll intervene. No… Dad, listen… But… No, we're being…" John pulled the phone from his ear, and stared at it in resignation. "Damn it."

As I'd listened to the conversation, I'd kept my eyes on the woman as she'd continued up the street toward us. It seemed to me with each man she touched she stood a bit straighter, moved a bit more easily. I didn't need anybody to tell me that she was feeding on the life force of those victims she was singling out. Both John and I froze as she passed our position. She never even glanced our way.

I let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. "What did Dad say?"

John nodded at Scott, who was following the woman, but had pulled out his phone and was obviously arguing with someone. "He agrees with you. At a guess, I'd say he's trying to convince Scott right now."

By this time, Scott had pulled even with us. He'd glanced over at our parking space, and paused, still talking on the phone. I watched, hoping Dad would convince him. Before the conversation ended, though, John started up the van. "She's turned that corner. We have to move, or she'll get away."

Scott saw the same thing, and moved to intercept us, swinging up into the passenger seat as John pulled out. John asked, "So, what's the plan?"

"We're going to hang back. Dad doesn't want us any closer than a hundred feet. He says he'll think of something." Scott was disgruntled, but apparently willing to listen to reason. He was pale and thin-lipped. It made me wonder exactly what Dad had said, but I was afraid to ask.

It had dawned on me that I had let my brothers down. They needed me to be strong, and I had just totally crumbled. I sat in my damn wheelchair feeling more crippled than I ever had when my back had been broken. I wondered if Scott would ever trust me again.

As if he had heard my thoughts, Scott turned to face me. "Gordon, you were right. I was wrong. I should have listened to you, and I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "I know we have to stop her, but Scott, she scares me in ways I can't even explain."

Scott exchanged a look with John as a smile blossomed on his face. "Don't, okay? I guess what I'm trying to say is, anybody who can scare the shit out of you AND Dad deserves careful consideration."

"As does anybody that ugly that could make Scott fall for her," John added.

"Excuse me? You fell first." Scott was indignant.

"Yes, but everybody knows you're Superman. I'm just a mild mannered astronomer. What chance did I have? But you… You have nerves of steel. You should have used your laser vision to see right through her."

John said it casually, but I knew what he was doing. He was pointing out to our big brother the foolishness of feeling guilty about what had happened. Scott had always felt responsible for anything that happened to any of us. Usually Virgil would keep him balanced, but Virgil wasn't here.

"You know, Johnny, I've always thought of him as more like Captain America than Superman. You know, with the little mask with lightening bolts on it? Superman is, of course, super, but you gotta just appreciate a guy who runs around in red buccaneer boots."

"Yeah, but Superman is old school. And there's nothing older than Scott."

"True. Sad, but true."

"All right, if you ladies are finished? We're here to do a job." Scott glared at us both, but we could see the glint of humor in his eye. "John, this street is pretty straight, go ahead and drive down to that green building down there. If she turns off, we can come back, but I don't want to risk her making us before Dad comes up with a plan."

Made sense. Plus, it got us out of her range, hopefully. As we parked and looked back at her sashaying her way up the street, I couldn't help the sinking feeling that there was nothing we were going to be able to do about her. Anybody who got close, got caught, and while I liked Alan's idea of hitting her with a fire bomb, it wasn't exactly practical. Especially in a crowded city like Singapore.

She moved on, touching more men as she went. John shook his head. "We have to do something about all these guys. We have to figure a way to keep them from going to her."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that. You were willing to take my head off if I tried to stop you, and I'm your brother. Walk up to one of these guys, and they'll cut your heart out."

"Did I, uh…" Scott couldn't bring himself to say it.

"I told you, Scott. I wasn't there. You'll have to ask Virgil what you said to him."

Scott sighed. "Yeah. Okay."

"Back on topic, guys. What we need to do is find out where she's holed up. It's a cinch it'll be on the mainland somewhere, too many people here. Then we set up a perimeter and intercept anybody who tries to go to her. Hit them with trank guns with Brains' cure."

"You don't think the Malaysian government is going to notice a bunch of guys going around shooting up citizens?" I shook my head.

John frowned. "It depends on where she goes. It has to be somewhere out in the countryside, like the farmhouse. Anywhere with people, and she's going to stick out like a sore thumb."

"Not to mention the smell. That sounds like a good plan, John, but how are we going to find out where her lair is? Anywhere isolated, and she'll see us following her. She's been doing this a long time, and as far as we know, never been caught, so she's crafty." Scott frowned as he thought about it.

When he put it that way, it made a lot of sense. I found myself nodding. "I can't help but feel she'll bolt at the first sign of trouble. That's what she did in Australia."

Both my brothers nodded as we all watched the woman continue toward us. When she was about 100 feet away, something changed. She paused, standing straighter, taking a deep breath. She nodded to herself, and looked around as if seeing her surroundings for the first time.

After a moment, she continued up the street, but this time with a purpose.

"She's topped off her tanks. She'll be heading home," Scott said firmly, and I had to agree.

"So, now what? If Johnny's right, and she heads out into the country, how are we going to follow her?"

"We'll figure it out. John, she's heading down that side street. Turn here and let's get ahead of her."

John nodded decisively, and got us moving. I jumped when Scott's cell rang. He checked the incoming number, and connected the call. "Dad? We're still following her. Yeah, actually, we think she's done, uh, collecting victims, and is heading for wherever she's set up her lair. Who? Uh, yeah, I think so. I'm not sure," Scott looked around the area, then asked John, "Where are we, John?"

"Lim Liak Street, coming up on Kim Pong Road."

"We're on Lim Liak Street near Kim Pong Road." Scott listened, then started to nod. "Yeah, that sounds good, but are you sure she'll be safe? We don't know anything about how this woman reacts. Yes, okay… No, we're staying well away. Yeah, I'm sure I will. Okay, Dad. All right… Always."

Scott disconnected, and put his cell phone away. I didn't want to wait, so I asked, "So, what's the plan, Scott?"

Scott glanced at me, but spoke to John first. "We're well ahead of her now. Cut over to the street she's on. We've got help coming."

"Who? Who's coming?" John sounded as impatient as I felt.

"Do either of you guys remember Kimmy Feng? That engineer Dad recruited last year?"

"The one that's two feet tall?" I asked, nodding.

"She's not that short, and if I remember correctly, she has a couple of black belts, so you're going to want to be respectful." Scott said. "Dad says she's going to come tag the succubus for us."

"Tag her? How?" John perked up a bit.

"Actually, Dad didn't say. He says she'll be with us pretty quick, so keep an eye out for her."

"How's she going to find us?"

Scott shrugged. "Dad didn't say, but he seemed pretty confident that she can."

We spotted the woman coming up the street toward us, and John pulled into a parking lot. We all watched as she passed by several young men. Where before she would intentionally bump them, now she seemed to be actively avoiding them. "Is it just me, or is she…"

John nodded. "Yes, she's avoiding touching anyone. Kind of makes me think she's only got limited control over it. Whatever it is."

A sudden thump on the door of the van startled us all. Scott looked out and down. I could barely see the top of what looked like a helmet from where I sat. Scott nodded. "Dr. Feng. Good to see you again."

"Mr. Tracy. I understand you have need of my services."

"Scott, open the door, let her in." I said, a bit impatient at not being able to see her.

"No, not necessary," came Dr. Feng's voice, as Scott made a move to open his door. "Just point her out to me."

Scott looked out the front windshield. "Two blocks up. The woman in purple with the gray hair."

"Ah. That outfit is hideous. This will only take a few minutes. I understand that you gentlemen are staying at the Mandarin Sky. This evening at eight o'clock, you will meet me at O Cha Cha on the 63rd floor and you will buy me dinner."

Suddenly, I could see the helmet move, and in front of the van Dr. Feng finally became visible. I felt my eyebrows climb. She was dressed in a skin tight rollerblading outfit complete with pads at her knees and elbows in addition to the helmet on her head. She was so small that she looked like a little kid.

She skated off down the road, and reached into a bag at her side and pulled out a small water balloon. To my surprise, she tossed it at a poor woman who was just walking along, minding her business. It burst drenching the woman, who turned and yelled something at Dr. Feng's back.

I had to laugh. She looked just like a kid after my own wicked heart. She skated on, pulling out another balloon, and tossing it at a second hapless victim. By the time she got to the succubus, she'd left a trail of soaking victims behind her, and I was grinning like an idiot.

I noticed that as she approached the succubus, the balloon she pulled out was larger than the previous ones. I held my breath as she let it fly. The woman saw the balloon coming, but her reaction was perfectly human. She put up her hands and turned her head away trying to fend it off. It burst just as the others had, drenching the woman.

Dr. Feng skated on, and unlike her other victims, the succubus didn't turn and hurl insults. She stood for a moment, then just walked on as if nothing had happened. It made a shiver run up my back.

"So, now what?" I asked, not sure what the water balloon had been all about.

John grinned wolfishly. "She tagged her with the enhanced iridium."

Scott deflated a bit. "It didn't work the last time."

I had to agree with him on that. Last year, we'd tried tagging a bastard criminal called the Hood with enhanced iridium. I'd done it myself. I saw it hit him, I saw him go down, but in the end, he'd simply taken his clothes off, and we landed up chasing them instead of him.

John shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Brains fixed it. Trust me, she's tagged, not just her clothes."

"Okay, so we don't have to follow her?"

Scott shook his head. "I think we'll stick with her for as long as we can."

He pulled out his cell, and put a call into our Dad. "Dad? Dr. Feng tagged her. Really? Great. No, we're going to keep following her for as long as we can. Yeah. Hey, how's Virgil doing? Oh. Okay, well, I'll call back later and talk to him. No, I'll keep you informed. Absolutely."

The succubus turned down another street before she reached our position, and John started up the van. "I think she's heading to the ferry port."

Both Scott and I nodded. It made sense. If she wanted to get out of the crowded city, she'd have to take a ferry or travel all the way across the island to the Causeway. John pulled out of the parking lot, and headed toward the docks.

I realized we were taking a chance, letting her out of our sight, but if what John said was true, and she was tagged, she wouldn't be able to escape the satellites that Dad no doubt had pointing straight at her. I asked, "Scott, how's Virgil?"

"Fine. Dad said he was still sleeping."

"Brains has a track on her, right?" It was John's turn to ask.

"Yeah. Dad says he was able to pick her up immediately."

"Um, you know, if she boards a ferry, we can't follow her, right? We'd have to go back to the hotel to get our passports."

Leave it to John to point out the practical. Personally, I was relieved. I didn't want to follow her. I would be perfectly happy if she'd just fall of the face of the Earth. "Yeah, and besides, we have to get those suits."

Scott shook his head at the idea of leaving off the pursuit to go clothes shopping. "We make sure she gets on the ferry first."

I felt the tension leave my body as Scott agreed to walk away from the chase. Hey, the woman wasn't actually feeding, right? So people were safe for a while, right? God, what a mess.

John drove us to the docks, and pulled into a parking space across the street from the ferry terminal. We were quiet as we waited, each watching the street where we expected her to appear. After several minutes, she still was a no-show, and I, for one, was beginning to get worried.

John shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think she might have turned off?"

"Give her a few more minutes," Scott said, unperturbed.

We gave her the few minutes, and a few more to spare, but still, there was no sign of her. When John couldn't stand the tension any longer, he pulled out his cell, and made a call. "Brains? Yeah, hi. We've lost sight of her. Can you guide us in? Uh huh. Oh. Yeah, I suppose so. It's weird, I'd just kind of figured she wouldn't need to do that. Yeah… okay. No, we'll sit tight. We want to make sure she gets on the ferry. Yeah, okay. Hey, thanks, Brains. Yeah, we will. I'll call you later. Bye."

"So?" Scott asked, as John shut down and put away his phone.

"Brains says she's stationary at a restaurant up the street."

That was a surprise. I'd kind of convinced myself she wasn't human at all. The idea of her doing something as mundane as slurping noodles hadn't occurred to me. Suddenly Scott was getting out of the car. "Scott!"

"Scott, what are you doing, man?"

"Relax fellas, I'm just going over to check the ferry schedule."

"But what if she shows up?"

"If you see her, honk, and I'll avoid her, okay? Just relax, I'm not going to take any chances." Scott strode away, crossing the street to the ferry building.

I tensed up, staring at the street where we expected the succubus to appear. What if she saw Scott? What if she recognized him as the one who got away? God knew what she'd do. I had this vision of her stripping down and unleashing her pheromones in a potent wave that would roll across half the city like a clap of thunder, enslaving every man in sight. Or maybe she could focus it like a spear, nailing Scott where he stood.

Of course, none of that happened, and a few minutes later, Scott came trotting back, and got back in the van. "The next ferry is in forty minutes. And then there isn't another one for a couple of hours."

"Okay, well, Brains said he'd call as soon as she started to move, so I guess we can relax for a bit."

Damn it. "He's going to call? Why the hell didn't you say so?"

I came across pretty strong, but you know, that little excursion of Scott's had seriously scared me, and now, the headache was back. John and Scott both looked at me in mild surprise. "Sorry."

"Are you okay? You look a little pale there."

I rounded on Scott. "You say you aren't taking any chances, but that's not what I'm seeing. 'Honk, and I'll avoid her.' Yeah, right. What if she had seen you, Scott? What if she had recognized you? What if she came after you? You'd avoid her? How? You have no idea what she's capable of."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "All right, now you listen to me. I've given you all the slack in the world on this. I understand that you're scared. I understand that you're worried about me and John. But you need to understand that we are going take this bitch down, whatever it takes. You need to remember who we are. Who you are. We're International Rescue, and we damn well never give up. You got it?"

God, I could feel the pride coming off my brother in waves. I looked into those eyes, and tried to take the strength that my brother so desperately wanted to impart, but the best I could do was nod reluctantly. I wasn't sure that we'd succeed, but I guess if I were going down, I couldn't do it in better company.

Scott continued to stare long after I looked away. Suddenly, he reached in his pocket, and pulled out the painkillers from Brains. "Johnny, let's find a store where we can get some water."

John, who'd been sitting quietly, nodded. "Sure."

He pulled the van out into the street, and we drove away from the ferry building and the bone breaking tension of watching for the monster. We landed up at a street vendor's stand just a few blocks away. Scott hopped out and got cans of soda and some long skewers with something deep fried on it.

"What is this?" John asked suspiciously as Scott got back in the car.

"A snack," Scott replied cryptically. He handed me a can of cola and two pills, then when I'd taken them, gave me a paper packet with three of the skewers in it.

John was still inspecting his. "Is this cat or dog?"

I rolled my eyes, and took a nibble. It was definitely some kind of fish, and it was pretty tasty. "It's cat. If you don't want it, I'll take it."

John frowned suspiciously at me, and very carefully bit off a tiny piece. Now, the thing about John is, he's picky, but if something tastes good, he'll jump right in. He chewed delicately, swallowed, then nodded. "You're right, it is cat, but it's the good kind… Siamese or Burmese maybe. None of that domestic shorthair crap."

Scott snorted, shaking his head. "Just get us back to the ferry, okay?"

John nodded, filling his mouth with the contents of an entire skewer before pulling out into traffic, munching away. By the time we were back on station, both Scott and I had finished off our snack and were eyeing the two remaining skewers in Johnny's packet.

John parked and casually picked up the skewers and without ever looking at us, ate the rest of his share. Ah well, easy come, easy go. We barely had gotten settled back down when John's cell rang, and Brains said the succubus was on the move. John confirmed with Brains that she was headed for the ferry before signing off.

We all started watching intently for her. The problem was, with the ferry getting ready to leave, there was a suddenly a huge crowd of people and cars funneling to the same point. And it seemed to me that every other person was wearing purple. It was Johnny Eagle Eye who spotted her. "There she is."

I followed his pointing finger, and sure enough, the succubus was there, further out from cover than I would have thought. We all three watched as she entered the ferry building. John had parked us so that we could see the boarding ramps of the ferry itself, and a few anxious minutes later, Scott pointed her out boarding onto the upper level.

As we waited for the ferry to pull out, John wondered, "Do you suppose she has a passport? She wasn't carrying a purse or anything."

I thought about it and said, "No, she probably does that Obiwan Kenobi thing, 'these aren't the droids you're looking for."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Stop that, Gordon. Don't give her superpowers. She's got a… an ability… but that doesn't make her invincible."

I wasn't so sure, but I kept my mouth shut. Finally, with a blast of air horn, the ferry started to pull away from the dock. Despite everything, I still got that little lift that I always got when a ship left the shore, a certain yearning to be going with them. Of course, when I thought about what was onboard, the yearning just kind of shriveled up.

_READER ALERT! This is where the original story and the new alternate ending go their separate ways. If you read the original posting, and didn't like the ending, please read no further. The alternate ending will be posted shortly. Look for chapter 35A._


	35. Chapter 35

"So, Ehkay Corners?" I asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to continue with our day's plans.

Scott checked his watch and shook his head. "It's after one. We don't have time. What do you say we go get some lunch, then we'll head back to the doctor's office for Gordon's appointment?"

I sat back, trying to digest the change of speed. Johnny looked stunned "You're kidding, right?"

Scott turned a cool eye toward him. "What do you mean?"

John gestured helplessly at the departing ferry. "We're tracking monsters, and you want to go for burgers?"

"Here's the thing John. We can tie ourselves into knots over all of this, and be so screwed when it's time to act that we make mistakes, or we can take time now to cool our jets and get ourselves ready for whatever is going to happen."

"Yeah. Besides, like you said, we can't follow her over to Malaysia. We don't have our passports with us. What did you think we were going to do, sit here and wait for her to come back?"

It made sense, and John was nothing if not sensible. I could see it was hard for him to gear down after this morning. but finally he shrugged and said, "Okay, fine. I guess lunch sounds good. So, where do you guys want to go?"

Scott thought, and with a grunt, pulled out his cell, and started texting. After a minute or so, he nodded in satisfaction. "I've got us a reservation at the Long Bar."

Okay, that was annoying. The Long Bar was at the Raffles Hotel, and was probably about the most famous bar in the entire city. I had been there was several occasions, and I had enjoyed it immensely, but what was the point if I couldn't have any alcohol?

I had no illusions about that. There was no way in hell Scott would let me have so much as a light beer, let alone anything interesting. Still, they had really rocking fried calamari there. I supposed I could make do with root beer or something.

John got us to the hotel, and the valets hopped to, getting me out of the van before my brothers could lend a hand. Scott got behind me and John beside me as we approached the main entrance guarded by a doorman dressed all in white with gold braid and a turban.

I could still remember the very first time I had come here, on a business trip with Dad when I was twelve. The doorman was utterly imposing to my child's eyes. When we approached, and he held open the door for my father, with a brilliant smile and a slight bow, I realized just how important dear old dad was.

Of course, now, the same man, or maybe his clone, was holding the door for me and my brothers, with the same courtesy he'd shown my dad. It made me feel ten feet tall, even in the wheelchair.

As we went through the lobby, I couldn't help but think that the owners of the Mandarin Sky could have taken a lesson from the Raffles on the nature of luxury. I had no doubt that a suite here would cost every bit as much as that warehouse we were staying in, but here, you would just naturally relax.

"Hey, Scott, you think there's any chance we could change hotels? Stay here, instead?"

I heard the regret in his voice as he answered, "No, Gordy. I told you, Dad pulled in a couple of favors to get us that room. I don't want to throw that kind of generosity back in his face."

John, who lived on a space station for half the year asked, "What's wrong with where we are?"

If he didn't know, I couldn't explain it, so I shrugged my shoulders and replied, "Nothing. I just like the Raffles is all."

Scott headed for the Long Bar, pushing me, with John in tow. As we entered, I just naturally smiled. The ambience of the place was fantastic. Palm fans swirled slowly overhead, and high-backed wicker chairs dotted the room. Nooks were created by tall ferns and as you walked in, you half expected to find Bogey and Bacall, or a member of the Adventurer's Club at one of the tables.

The reality was most of the patrons were either well-heeled tourists, or businessmen who cared only about the status of the place. Of course, here and there, you'd maybe spot a Somebody, a person whose face you vaguely recognized.

"Hey, isn't that that actress Virgil likes so much? Um, Hayley something or other?" Scott and I both looked in the direction John had indicated, and sure enough, there was Hayley Whiting, looking as if she was posing for a photo shoot.

"Whiting. Yeah, that's her," Scott said in a bored tone of voice. He wasn't fooling anyone. He practically steered me into a potted palm as he gawked.

I didn't care all that much, other than as a way to tease Virgil. Hayley Whiting was the break-out star of a TV show called Street Vibes. Virg tried to watch it every chance he got. He said it was because he liked the premise, but we all knew it was because he had the hots for Hayley's character, Mara, a streetwise, feisty detective, blah, blah, blah.

"Virgil's going to be sorry he wasn't here," I commented as we were seated at a table.

"He's not going to know." Scott was firm in his belief he could contain the information. Johnny and I just smiled at him. "Come on, you guys, give the man a break. He's had a tough time."

I could have pointed out that so had we all, but the waiters were very attentive, and one was already there to take our drink order. To my surprise, both of my brothers ordered coffee. "Aw, come on, guys. Just because the drinking lamp is out for me doesn't mean you have to stay dry."

Scott smirked, "I'm only here for the pub grub."

John nodded. "They make an outstanding shepherd's pie here."

With an exasperated humph, I turned to the waiter and said, "I'll have a ginger ale. Make it a double. And hold the cherries."

My brothers both snickered as the waiter moved away. I pulled myself up and sniffed. "We're in a bar for God's sake. One of us has to have at least the appearance of drinking a manly drink."

Scott chuckled, and John shook his head, giving his best Yoda imitation. "Beer not a man make, young Jedi."

I shot John a look and whipped out my cell. "Alan?"

"Hey! I hear you guys tracked that woman."

"Yeah, we did, but that's not why I'm calling."

"Yeah? So, what's up?"

"We're at the Long Bar at the Raffles, and Scott and John just ordered coffee."

"Coffee? What kind of coffee?"

"Plain, ordinary joe."

"Are they crazy?"

"Ah. That's the answer I was looking for. I'll talk to you later."

"Um, okay."

I hung up and put away my phone. My brothers stared at me, waiting for me to say something, but I didn't need to say anything. I just stared right on back at them. The showdown ended when the waiter appeared with our drinks and asked if we cared for anything else.

We went ahead and ordered, and I started to drool a bit in anticipation of the grilled calamari steak. John was looking pensive, and Scott had kind of closed up shop and shut down, so I was able to sit back and mull over what had happened.

I wondered how long it would take her victims to start coming to her. Were some of them on that same ferry that she was on? I hoped not. I kind of liked what John had said. That they wouldn't come for a day or two. I mean, it seemed likely that the farmhouse in Australia wasn't her first ballgame. And if she didn't have some way to disguise what she was doing, people would have heard about her, right? There would have been stories in the media about pitchforks and torches.

On the other hand, it seemed pretty obvious she had a pretty free hand to do her thing. She didn't seem to have any problem boarding the ferry. I would have had to produce the right documents, have them scanned, declare my intentions. As far as I'd been able to see, that catsuit didn't have any pockets, and it was skin tight, so it would have shown the bulge of a passport.

Scott said not to give her any superpowers, but it seemed to me that her whole ability to sway the minds of men was pretty much in the realm of the Legion of Doom. In my mind, she just walked up to the customs official, waved her hand, and he let her through.

"Uh-oh." John's soft remark broke through my thoughts and I looked up at my brother. He was studiously studying his coffee cup. "We're about to have company."

I started to turn in my seat, but suddenly, she was right in front of me. It was Hayley Whiting. She held out her hand, saying, "My God, it is you! You're Gordon Tracy, aren't you? Oh, I had such a crush on you during the Olympics! Um, my name is Hayley Whiting, and when I saw you sitting here, I just had to come over and introduce myself."

A groupie? Whoda thunk! "Hi, yeah, of course I know who you are. These are my brothers…"

"… No, don't tell me, I can guess. You must be John, and you, of course, are Scott."

My brothers, who'd been in the midst of standing up, sort of froze where they were. Hayley continued on, oblivious to the consternation she had caused. "I was such a geek when I was a kid. I fell totally in love with you. I was convinced that we'd get married some day. I sent you a picture and a letter, and you sent me back the nicest reply."

Well, in reality, it was my grandma who wrote out a lot of the replies to my fan mail. "Really? You know, I probably still have that letter. My grandmother never threw out anything."

Hayley's eyes widened a bit and she flushed under her perfect makeup. "Oh, um, well, I was just a kid at the time. I had no idea that I'd actually make it in show business. Um, the picture, is… um…"

I waited for her to continue. I didn't have a clue what she was trying to say. John snorted, shaking his head. "Don't worry, Miss Whiting. We won't let Gordon sell the picture to the tabloids."

Oh! It was one of those pictures. Right after the Olympics, I had this bizarre fame that led to all kinds of fan mail. My Grandma took over the handling of it after she saw the kind of suggestions and pictures I was getting. I smiled up at her. "No, I wouldn't do that."

She rolled her eyes with a goofy grin, signaling her relief. She really was very pretty, and she seemed to be a nice person under the professionally manicured exterior. I was beginning to like her. Scott, though, was all business. "Miss Whiting, how did you know our names?"

She wrinkled her nose in embarrassment. "It's like I said, I had a terrible crush on Gordon when I was a kid. I wanted to know everything about him. When I watched the Olympics on TV, they would cut away to show your dad's reaction, and there were your three brothers. You were the one that couldn't make it because you were stationed overseas in the Air Force." She shrugged in embarrassment. "At the time, I thought I needed to learn everything I could about my future brothers-in-law. I followed Alan's racing career for a while, and you know, John, I even tried to read one of your books."

"Tried?" John had a bemused look on his face.

Hayley laughed. "Yes. I tried. It was way over my head, and I couldn't get through it, but it just made me realize how smart you are."

Uh-oh. I was no brainiac, but I found Johnny's books to be educational and entertaining. Hayley just dropped herself into the dumb blonde category. Still, she was good-looking, and looked athletic. She could be a lot of fun.

I could see she was eyeing me, too. Suddenly she frowned. "Of course, I followed your career, too. I just about died when I heard about your accident. But I thought you'd gotten better. I would swear I read somewhere that you were walking. There was even talk of a comeback."

I grinned up at her. "Well, I don't know about the comeback, but this wheelchair is just temporary. I had an accident at home."

She smiled slyly at me, nodding her head as she reached into her purse. She pulled out a small card, and a pen, wrote something, and handed me the card. "That's my cell. I'll be in town for a couple of days. Why don't you call me, and we'll get together?"

Ouch. The cyproterone was definitely out of my system, and certain bruises were making themselves felt. Still… "Yeah, I'll just do that."

She looked up at my brothers. "It was nice meeting you all."

She turned her smile on me, and with a look of promise, walked away, her hand trailing up my arm leaving little shivers in its wake. We all watched her walk away, and I for one felt that certain kind of anticipation that only a woman could cause.

I turned back to my brothers with a grin, but it froze on my face at the two frowns I met. Scott was first up to bat. "You going to give that card to Virgil?"

Oh, come on. "No, I wasn't planning on it. She gave it to me, not him. And besides, he isn't here."

"Aren't you the one who said she was cookie cutter phony?"

"Yea, but that was before I realized she had the good taste to fall for me."

"Well, there is that. Virgil probably dodged a bullet there."

I shot him a look, and turned to my other brother.

"You know the hotel's privacy shield ends at the front door."

John had a point. All high-end hotels catering to a high profile clientele had privacy shields that would scramble any electronic video device, causing any pictures taken to come out irretrievably blurred. It annoyed the tourists because their cell phone cameras wouldn't take that picture of Junior in the lobby, but they'd be a whole lot more annoyed if Junior was knocked down as the papparazzi swarmed after some starlet.

Problem was, as Johnny said, those shields ended at the entrances to the hotel in question, because the technology required enclosed spaces to work in. Yeah, there was a better version that worked out of doors, and would even scramble the pictures after they'd been taken, but I don't think Scott would be willing to go home and get Thunderbird One just so I could party.

John had a point, but I had my own. I waggled my eyebrows and smiled. "Who said anything about leaving the hotel?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I thought we'd agreed to a guys night."

"Forget the guys night. We have business to take care of," Scott was using his commander voice.

Actually, I didn't mind. Hayley said she'd be around for a couple of days. I could wait. Besides, it'd give the bruises a chance to heal. I grinned at my brothers. "Whatever. I'm up for whatever you guys want to do."

And it was the truth. Despite the operation, despite the ongoing threat of the succubus, I was out on the town with two of my brothers, and that was something to be treasured. Of course, neither John nor Scott quite believed me. By the looks on their faces, they probably figured I'd ditch them the first chance I got. I had no such intention, but I knew the more I protested, the less they'd believe me.

Our meal arrived just in time. I was getting tired of maintaining just the right look of patently false innocence. Hey, I wasn't above misleading them. Keeping an eagle eye on me would give them something to do. Keep them out of trouble.

We each dug into our lunch, and I have to say, not even Kyrano could have topped that calamari. I could tell John and Scott were both enjoying their meals just as much as I was because none of us felt the need to keep up the small talk.

We took our time savoring the meal, and I think it tasted all the better for the tough morning. Unfortunately, the time we took suddenly meant we were running late for my appointment with Dr. Zheng, and that was one appointment that I didn't want to miss.

John trotted ahead to get the van, and Scott did some serious power pushing on my chair. I sat back and enjoyed the wind blowing through my hair. Once we were in the van, I had to smile, because both of my brothers were winded. "Geez, if Dad were to see you guys right now, he'd have us all running wind sprints for a month."

"Shut up, Gordon," came in stereo from the front of the van. I just laughed, and enjoyed the view on the drive to the hotel.

When we got there, Johnny pulled the van right over to the bank of freight elevators at Scott's direction. We were getting out when all three of our phones rang at the same time. I pulled mine out to find a text message reading "OCU: military."

From the raised eyebrows, I gathered Scott and John got the same message. OCU stood for Operation Cover Up, meaning we had company that didn't know about our organization. The military meant the company was from some country or other's military forces.

The question was, why tell us? We weren't on the island. Scott started to text something, then paused. He shook his head slightly, then put his phone away. "If Dad wanted to talk to us, he'd have called instead of texting. All right, let's get you up to the doctor's office. John, you going to come with us?"

"Yeah, actually. I want to meet this Dr. Zheng."

I was a little surprised. I couldn't think of anything much more boring than sitting in a doctor's waiting room. But then again, I'm not John. He's one of those guys who can sit still and think up all sorts of interesting stuff. I remember one time sitting at an airport with him when our flight was delayed. I got antsy, and he figured out a way to extend Thunderbird Two's communication range.

We all loaded onto the elevator, and headed up to the doctor's office. As before, we came out into the lobby of the office, and the same woman was behind the receptionist desk. John went over to check us in, and practically before he'd gotten out my name, an attendant had appeared to usher me, and both of my brothers, back to the same room I'd been taken to before.

I was handed a hospital gown, and having ascertained that I had all the help I needed to undress, the attendant bowed and left us alone. With John and Scott's help, I was soon face down on the bed, my butt barely covered by the flimsy gown.

It was only a short wait before the door opened and in walked this gray-haired woman in scrubs. She raised a slight eyebrow at the presence of my brothers, but without any ceremony came over, removed the surgical dressing, and started poking at my butt.

At the beginning of her examination, I was relieved at how little it hurt, but then she found the bad spot, and I practically jumped right off the bed.

"Did that hurt?" She asked with typical clinical detachment.

I shot her a look to tell her what I thought of the question, but answered her anyway. "Yes, it did."

She nodded, and moved to a cabinet. She pulled out this contraption that looked like the offspring of a vacuum cleaner and a pasta machine, and brought it over, and set it up so that it was right above my poor aching bottom. She turned it on, and I could feel a vibration starting up in the tissues around the wound. I was an odd feeling, but not uncomfortable.

The doctor moved up to be in my line of sight, and handed me a small control with a button. "This treatment will last for fifteen minutes. If before the knitter shuts down, you feel any pain, do not hesitate, push this button. It will shut down the machine and summon assistance."

She turned to go, but Scott stood up. "Dr. Zheng, how does it look? Is it going to heal right?"

The doctor shook her head. "I am not Dr. Zheng, I am Dr. Li. Dr. Zheng does not make mistakes. The wound is healing within expectations."

Whoa. She got a little testy there. Scott was a bit taken aback by her tone, and she swept out of the room before he could recover. I watched him stand there letting himself get annoyed. "What the hell."

"I've got it figured," John said. "There is no Dr. Zheng. There's only the ZhengBot 4000. Latest in automated microsurgery."

"Well, it sure feels like I'm on an assembly line. She sure got tetchy there, didn't she? Makes you wonder how often people ask the question."

"It was a legitimate question." Scott grumped. "I'll tell you this, I am not leaving this place without meeting this Dr. Zheng."

I shrugged. "Does it really matter? Maybe she's like, ugly or something. Maybe she's totally shy. I don't really care as long as she did a good job. And except for that Dr. Li poking the wrong spot, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as I would have expected, so I'm thinking she did a great job."

John had gotten up and come over to study the machine that was positioned above my rump. "You know, guys, I think this is one of Brains' gadgets. Let me just see, here…"

"Hey, don't fiddle with it while it's on!"

"I'm not fiddling, I'm just looking. Yeah, there it is. It's got a TE patent on it. This will help, Gordy."

"If it's something Brains came up with, then why do we need to be here? Couldn't we just go home, have the man himself do this?" Scott was still peeved at not meeting Dr. Zheng.

John and I shared a look. I explained it to my big brother. "Because if we have it done here, we are in Singapore, city of adventure. If we go home, who knows when we'll get another chance to get away."

"Scott, think of it this way. We're in a city where a mug like Gordon can score. Imagine the possibilities for better looking guys like us."

Scott grinned wryly. "There is that."

"Okay, I'm thinking you both need to see an eye doctor while we're here."

"You're not still under that delusion that you're good-looking, are you?" John feigned sympathy.

"Compared to you two, I'm drop dead gorgeous," I sniffed.

"Well, I'll admit that women tend to drop dead when they see you," Scott smirked.

"Yeah, well, how do you explain that I'm the only one who's gotten a girl's phone number?"

"You mean the girl Einstein?" John snorted.

"Hey, now," Scott remarked mildly. "No need to put her down. She may just not care for astronomy."

John shook his head and grabbed his hair with both hands. "This does not compute. Please rephrase."

Scott and I both snickered. The machine beeped a soft tone, and shut down, and I lost that feeling of bees buzzing in my buttocks. Before any of us could comment, the door opened, and Dr. Li came in. She looked pointedly at my brothers and they both stepped back out of the way.

She moved the machine away from my backside, and once again began poking and prodding. I held my breath when she started on the spot that had hurt before, but this time there was just that achy feeling that the rest of the wound had.

Apparently satisfied, she moved to another cabinet and took out another device, one that I was familiar with. I smiled in satisfaction as she sprayed a cooling layer of dermaplast over the wound site. She put it on nice and thick. It was a wound sealant that would keep out dirt, but was also totally waterproof so I would be able to take a shower.

I started to itch all over just in anticipation of getting clean. Dr. Li took her time, but finally she was done. "Continue to use the wheelchair with the pillow as much as possible, you may shower, but do not take a bath. Get plenty of rest, and I will see you tomorrow at 9a.m."

"Thank you, Doctor," I said, grinning.

"Dr. Li, when will we be able to consult with Dr. Zheng?" Scott asked firmly.

The doctor pulled herself up tall, and said, "There is no need to consult with Dr. Zheng. I am quite capable of addressing any concerns you might have."

"And exactly why would we not be able to talk directly to Dr. Zheng?"

"Dr. Zheng performs as many as ten difficult surgeries per day. When not in the operating room, she is reviewing records and consulting with physicians across the world. She chooses not to have direct patient contact. That is what her staff is for. Did you have any questions regarding the surgery or recovery?"

I could see Scott wasn't happy. But as far as I was concerned, the fact that I was healing was all that mattered. I took the lead, saying, "No, Doctor. No questions. Thank you for everything."

She turned to me, and for the first time, smiled. "You are welcome, Mr. Tracy."

She turned back to Scott, and paused, but he just nodded, "Yes, thank you, Doctor."

She cocked her head for a moment, but then just left the room. As I started to sit up, Johnny said, "I told you guys, it's the ZhengBot 4000."

Scott snorted and he helped me get to my feet. He and John both helped me get dressed, and as quick as that, we were out of there. As we waited for an elevator, John asked, "Now what?"

"I want to get back to the room. I need to take a shower."

"Well, I wasn't going to mention it, but yeah, you do. You really do." Scott smirked.

"Yeah, well, you're no bed of roses yourself."

Scott made a show of sniffing his armpits. "Actually, I'm more a bed of spicy goodness."

"Oh, you're spicy, all right," John replied dryly.

The elevator arrived, and we squeezed in with about five other people. It was a quiet ride up with all but one of the other passengers getting off before us. The last passenger stayed on even after we'd reached our floor. We disembarked, and John led the way, keying the door to our room open with his thumb.

Scott pushed me on in, and we all came to a startled stop. We had company. Gathered around a large table spread with maps and other papers were my dad, Alan, and four decidedly hard-faced women. They all turned toward us, and I got the feeling that any one of the women could take us on without a lot of trouble.


	36. Chapter 36

Dad smiled, "Ah, Captain Scott. Thank you for joining us. How is Lieutenant Gordon doing?"

Okay, then. That told us a lot. Scott replied for me. "The Lieutenant is doing fine, sir."

I could hear the military tone in his voice, and my face just fell into the old emotionless stare that I'd learned in WASP, knowing full well that Scott's look was similar.

"Well, if you gentlemen will join us, we'll continue the briefing." Scott pushed me over, and a couple of the women moved to make room. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you. This is Major Lieberman, Lieutenant Mayer, and Sergeants Yadin and Segal. You already know Ensign Shepherd. Ladies, this is Captain Scott, Lieutenant Gordon, and Captain John."

Alan shot me a look acknowledging that Dad had managed to give us the lowest ranks in our supposed army, or was it navy? I didn't care. Nothing was said, but these woman screamed IDF strike team. I wondered what kind of story Dad had fed the Israeli government to send them here.

It didn't take long for me to see why Dad had pulled these particular strings. Apparently we were hoping that the succubus didn't have any power over women. I didn't know how accurate that would be. In my own mind, the succubus pretty much could take on anyone.

"Captain John, if you'll assist Ensign Shepherd with the satellite imaging, I'd like to get this operation under way."

"Mr. Tracy, what exactly is the operation?" Scott asked.

"You and your team traced the target to the Malaysian mainland. Major Lieberman's team will eliminate the threat."

"How?" I asked, curious.

One of the sergeants opened a satchel and pulled out a block of C10. The grin on her face attested to her total confidence. "We can handle it, no problem."

God, it was the same attitude that Scott had had. I looked over at Dad, trying to convey my disbelief. He shook his head, "Sergeant, I appreciate your confidence, but let me remind you again, this agent has access to a mind-control gas that is beyond anything in your training."

"Mr. Tracy, we do understand the danger. That is why we were called in. We will eliminate this threat, do not fear." Major Lieberman had the same confidence as her sergeant.

"So, what is your plan, Major?" Scott was focused on the maps on the table.

"We go in, set our explosives, back away and blow the target's hideout. If the target survives, we cut her down with bullets."

"She may have prisoners."

The major turned a cool eye on my brother. "As I understand it, any prisoners would be compromised."

"There is an antidote to the gas. Any prisoners she has are civilians, Major."

Lieberman pursed her lips. Clearly she was willing to take civilian casualties if it meant taking out the target. "What do you suggest, Captain?"

I winced at the slight emphasis on Scott's supposedly lesser rank. Scott never batted an eye, though, saying, "I'm coming with you. I'll take responsibility for any prisoners."

"Not possible." The major looked my brother in the eye, and I could see she wasn't going to back down.

Of course, neither was Scott. He turned to Dad and said, "Sir, this is an operation on foreign soil. We have an obligation to prevent civilian casualties."

I could see that haunted look cross my father's face, and I knew he wasn't going to let Scott go in under any circumstances, even at the loss of innocent lives. John interrupted the discussion, saying, "It's a moot point, Captain. We've just confirmed the target's location, and she's all alone. I recommend proceeding immediately."

The women all stood, gathering up a series of gym bags apparently intended to disguise their military supplies. Without ceremony, they headed for the door, my father calling after them, "Keep those communicators open, ladies. I want to know everything that happens."

The major acknowledged my dad's request and the women filed out of the apartment, leaving us alone. Dad turned to John and Alan. "You two keep a close eye on them."

John nodded, "I've got a good track. How did you plant the receivers?"

Alan grinned, "I did it. They all had a nice cool drink of water, with an enhanced iridium chaser."

Dad turned to me. "How are you, son? What did the doctor say?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Dr. Li said the wound is healing as expected. I hardly notice it."

"Dr. Li? Who is Dr. Li? What about Dr. Zheng?"

"Dr. Zheng only does the surgery, Dad. All the follow up is done by her staff."

Dad got the same look on his face that Scott had had. I grinned. "John says there is no Dr. Zheng, only the ZhengBot 4000, the latest in surgery robots."

Dad didn't smile, but Alan grinned, sitting next to John. He reached over and punched John lightly on the arm to acknowledge the joke. John just continued working, a sly smile on his face. Dad sighed, and said, "Well, if you're okay, then I suppose it won't bother you that your brother is resting in your bedroom."

"Virgil's here?" Scott perked up.

Dad rolled his eyes. "As if I could have kept him away. Yes, he's here, but I want you all to go lightly with him. He's not well, no matter what he says."

Scott smiled and headed for my bedroom. I rolled my wheelchair over behind my other brothers, wanting to watch the operation unfold. I accidentally bumped into their chairs, and Alan shot me an annoyed look, but John just glanced over at me, then hit a few keys on a small laptop next to the larger computer he was working on.

I looked up as the room darkened, and a big screen TV dropped slowly down from the ceiling. With a few connections and keystrokes, John got his screen to transfer to the TV, and I was suddenly watching a bird's eye view of the city.

Four green dots were moving steadily toward the harbor. I grinned as I watched. John was a master of satellite imaging, and he kept them in the center of the screen. It was like being high up in a helicopter looking straight down at the buildings.

Dad shook his head. "If they ever find out we've tagged them, our lives won't be worth a plugged nickel."

I turned to him. "They're IDF, right? How did you convince them to do this?"

Dad grew serious. "This woman's modus operandi is very distinct. I had some people backtrack her movements based on the forensic report from the farmhouse. They were able to see a pattern. She only stays in a place for six to seven months before moving on. She's been all around the world, moving from country to country. They were able to track her back for almost forty years."

Oh, man. Her victims had to number in the thousands. Dad continued. "At least three of her lairs were in Israel. Of course, the government there interpreted it as terrorist attacks. It wasn't too hard to convince them that she was a terrorist and had to be stopped. Based on the pattern we saw, it was a good guess that she'd land up somewhere in Southeast Asia. This team has been in the area for the last three days, waiting for her to show herself. The last thing I expected was for you boys to stumble across her."

Dad shrugged, adding, "I didn't want to tell you because I wasn't all that sure it would pan out. And of course, once they were in the area, I couldn't warn you. These people are far too efficient to risk them intercepting something and getting the wrong idea."

"And of course, Dad insisted that they send the scary all female team," a decidedly pale looking Virgil said as he slowly followed Scott into the room.

"Son, you don't need to be here. Why don't you go back in the bedroom and lay down?" Dad eyes shone with his concern.

"No, Dad, I'm all right. Besides, how could I sleep knowing this is going on?" Virgil gestured toward the TV. "I need to be in on this."

Virgil moved over to a couch and sat down with a sigh. He eyed me and said, "How are you doing, Gordon?"

"I'm buttacular. How's your head?"

"It's still attached." Virgil said it with a sigh, like he wasn't all that sure that it was a good thing.

Scott looked around for a moment, then went over to John, conversing quietly with him. I rolled myself over next to Virgil on the couch, and quickly became engrossed in the story unfolding on the TV. John had gotten a close up of the team as they all boarded what looked like a speedboat.

We watched as the boat left the harbor, then to my surprise, instead of picking up speed, it sank from view. I felt an immediate desire to get a closer look, a much closer look, at that boat. While the boat had disappeared from view, the green dots hadn't, and we watched as they picked up speed, and headed away toward the mainland.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and we froze, not sure if we needed to shut down the TV or not. Scott made a calming gesture and went over to open the door. After a soft exchange of words, he pulled in a cart, and closed the door.

The cart was laden with a large coffee urn, and a platter of what looked like croissants. Scott pushed the cart over to the table, and served himself a mug of coffee. I went back to watching the scene unfolding on the screen. A moment later, Scott was in front of me, handing a mug of coffee to me, and another to Virgil. "You guys want anything to eat?"

I shook my head, but Virgil said yes, and so I had to put up with Scott getting in my way again as he handed our brother a plate with a couple of the croissants on it. Finally, he was done playing butler and he plopped himself on the couch next to Virgil, and I had an uninterrupted view of the TV.

The green dots had already moved past the city and Pulau Ubin, a small island to the east of Singapore. They were already through the Straits of Johor, and were now moving well up the Johor River. "How fast is that boat?" Dad asked, curiously.

"It's moving at over 40 knots," John replied.

I shook my head. It was a suicidal speed under the circumstances. The Johor river delta was shallow and silty. They could hit any number of sandbars or other obstructions before they even knew they were there. Not to mention the wildlife. The delta was one of the last habitats for the Asian dugong. Hitting a five hundred pound animal at high speed was a sure way to ruin your day.

As we watched, the boat approached the silt line, where the water turned from blue to brown. To my relief, the boat's speed immediately dropped off, and soon it was crawling at just a few knots. Maybe they weren't suicidal after all.

The boat surfaced some way off shore, and as we watched, the strike team disembarked into the muddy brown water. They were going in through the mangrove swamps, and I, for one was glad that I wasn't with them.

Scott started to get antsy, and said, "John, can you give us a location on the succubus? How far out are they?"

John obediently pulled the view back, giving us a wider area, and I could see that a short distance in from the coast, the trees became more uniform, orderly. It was some sort of plantation, probably rubber. Near the border between the plantation and the hodgepodge of the mangrove swamp there was what appeared to be a narrow dirt track leading to a small building. There was a red dot in the building.

It was obviously a caretaker's shack for the rubber plantation. At the upper edge of the picture, I could make out a much more substantial building, probably the owner's home. It was much like the farm in Australia. Nice and isolated, where no one would notice her.

I had a fleeting thought, wondering why she didn't take on the more luxurious quarters of the owner's home, but the question answered itself. The caretaker's shack was private, and more likely to escape notice.

I checked the relative distance between the red and green dots, and found myself nodding. Major Lieberman had brought her team right to the target. I figured they'd be at the shack within the next 30 minutes.

Apparently Dad figured the same thing, because he turned to John and said, "Son, what is all of that gear you had delivered?"

John looked up, grinning with the sudden memory of our stop at the electronics store. "I want to build a satellite relay station. To pick up images from the Agrippa Telescope."

The Agrippa Deep Space Telescope was currently orbiting Callisto, one of the moons of Jupiter. Johnny had followed its launch and positioning fervently. Dad raised an eyebrow. "Son, it this going to be legal?"

Johnny grinned. "Perfectly. I'm not going to disrupt the data flow, I'm just going to tap into it."

Now seemed like a good time to change the subject. I turned to my younger brother. "Hey, Al, you'll never guess who we ran into at the Long Bar."

Alan looked up. "Who?"

"Hayley Whiting."

"What?" Virgil's head swiveled toward me, causing him to wince a bit.

"Hayley Whiting, the actress. She came over and introduced herself."

Virgil's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Now, why would she do that?"

"She saw me, and had to have me, simple as that."

Scott snorted and clarified. "She saw him in the Olympics and recognized him."

Virgil turned his attention to Scott. "Really? How did she look in person?"

"Nice, if you like a ton of makeup. She didn't have a hair out of place, or a cracked fingernail. She looked like one of Grandma's old Dolls of The World, you know? Too perfect to be real."

"She was nice enough, if a little dim-witted," John said softly, in her defense.

Virgil sighed. "I wish I could have met her."

Aw, I couldn't resist that hangdog look. "Well, you still can. She gave me her number. Maybe we could take her to dinner or something."

His face fell. "She gave you her number?"

I shrugged, "Yeah. She said she fell in love with me during the Olympics. But I'll bet she'd like you better if you just talked to her."

Virgil got this bemused look on his face, and suddenly he shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need my little brother to get dates for me."

Whoops. It was clear I'd played that hand wrong. I shrugged and grinned, "Okay, I tried. She's all mine, now."

Alan piped up. "Is she here with anyone? Maybe we could go out together."

I felt my eyebrows go up. "You're staying?"

Alan nodded, a big smile on his face. "Yup. Brains has all of the 'birds torn apart for his upgrades. Couldn't go out on a rescue if we wanted to. So we're going to have a family vacation for the next couple of days."

"Excellent!"

Dad shook his head. "Are you boys comfortable here? It's not what I expected, and if you'd like, I'll see if we can get rooms some place else. The Raffles, maybe? Or the Four Seasons?"

Scott shrugged, saying, "It's just a bedroom, Dad. We're okay with whatever you want to do."

I bit my tongue. It was true, the room was just a place to rest our heads, but if Dad was offering, what could be the harm in asking to stay at the Raffles?

It was Virgil who finally spoke up. "Uh, no offense, guys, but this place is annoying."

"Annoying?" John asked, a tiny frown on his face.

"Yes, annoying," Dad replied, nodding his head. "That's it exactly. Hand me that phone, Alan, let's see what I can do."

Dad took the phone, and stepped away, and we all turned our attention back to the TV. The green dots were slowly closing in on the red dot. I could just imagine the misery of going through that swamp. I shuddered at the thought of it, and looked over at Scott. "And you wanted to go with them?"

"With the strike team? Why?" Virgil asked in a tone of disbelief.

"He has the hots for Major Lieberman, that's why," Alan said with a snicker.

Scott shot him a dirty look, and said quietly to Virgil. "These people don't care who gets hurt. The only thing they care about taking down the target. I wanted to go with them to make sure none of her victims had turned up at that place."

Virgil nodded his understanding and we all turned back to the TV. I smirked, "Well, about now, they're all pulling off leeches and slapping away mosquitoes."

"Better them than us," Alan replied with a similar look on his face.

The green dots had just reached the road when Dad came back. Seeing that things would soon be happening, he didn't say anything, he just pulled up his chair and sat. I watched with bated breath as the four dots separated, each moving cautiously toward a separate corner of the shack.

My eyes were glued to the red dot, watching for any sign that the succubus heard the approach of the strike team. The dot never moved, leading me to think that she was resting or sleeping or whatever she did. Each of the green dots moved in a slow dance around the shack, pausing momentarily here or there as the strike team laid their charges.

It took them a good ten minutes before they were suddenly backing away from the structure, two to the side facing the road, and two more back in amongst the trees. I think we were all holding our breaths as we waited for what was to happen next.

When the scene suddenly zoomed in closer, we all jumped. Johnny muttered, "Sorry, just wanted a better view."

It was indeed a better view. The green dots resolved into tiny human figures, and the building was close enough to make out the thatch on the roof. After what seemed like an eternity, the structure exploded in a fireball that seemed to whoosh straight for the camera.

Of course the camera in question was in low earth orbit, so there was no danger of the fire reaching it. Nevertheless, John pulled the scan back a bit, and we could see the strike team holding their positions, waiting to see if the woman would somehow appear.

I had my lip firmly between my teeth. It didn't seem possible that anyone could survive that holocaust, but the succubus wasn't just anyone. After the initial flash, the fire was down to blackened embers with amazing speed, testifying to the heat of the blaze.

Within twenty minutes or so, the strike team was moving forward to check on the destruction. My dad, brothers and I were all quiet during the entire operation. None of us felt good about the outcome, which seemed pretty obvious. The succubus was dead, and that was a good thing, but to stand by and witness the ruthless murder of anybody, good or bad, went against the grain for us all.

Suddenly, a communicator on the table beeped. "Homebase, this is Strike Leader, come in."

Dad picked up the device, and answereed. "Strike Leader, this is Homebase."

"Target eliminated."

"Understood, Strike Leader." Dad confirmed softly, and dropped the communicator on the table.


	37. Chapter 37

Two weeks later, and we were back at home, back to business as usual. Later today, Alan was going back up to Thunderbird Five to finish out his rotation. And Dad had put an announcement out that International Rescue was again available.

In the end, we hadn't stayed in Singapore. None of us felt like partying, and as soon as the doctor cleared me the next morning, we had all flown back to our home, each of us quiet with our own thoughts. Things were still quieter than usual around the villa. But we were getting better as time went on.

The explosion at the caretaker's shack barely got a mention in the local news, written off as an accident with stored gasoline cans. No mention was made of any dazed men wandering out to the shack, so I suppose the succubus' hold on them was broken with her death. At least we were able to save them.

I walked through the house in my swimming trunks and flip-flops, a towel around my neck. I came out onto the balcony above the pool, and I paused, looking down on the scene below. Scott was in the pool, with his arms folded up on the coping, talking to Alan, who sat idly splashing his feet in the water. Dad was off to the side, at an umbrella-shaded table, playing cribbage with Virgil. And John was kicked back on a chaise lounge, chatting amiably with Grandma.

It was hard to look at the scene and not feel a surge of affection. My family meant the world to me, all the more so after our run-in with the succubus. I moved off the balcony down to the pool, tossing my towel on a lounger, and slipping out of my flip-flops.

I came up to the pool's edge and gripped with my toes, then dove in. I stroked the length of the pool, pushing aside the niggling question that turned the water cold around me… could beings like her be killed? And even if they could, was she the last of her kind...or were there more, somewhere out there..?

The End.


	38. Chapter 38

_Author's note: So, here it finally is, the alternate ending. I'm a bit red in the face over this. I've always been a very strong proponent of not posting until the story is finished. That way, you can post quickly without frustrating your readers. I re-posted this story thinking I had finished my alternate ending, but I didn't take into account my beta. Sam took one look and pointed out a couple of glaring problems with it, and it took me this long to get them corrected. Sorry about that!_

"So, Ehkay Corners?" I asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to continue with our day's plans.

Scott frowned, looking at me like he hadn't heard right. John ventured, "Lunch?"

Scott gave himself a little shake, then said, "We're going back to the hotel. We need a war council, figure out what we're going to do."

I sighed, nodding. John, however, shook his head. "A couple of cat skewers aren't enough, Scott. We need to eat right if we're going to be on top of our game."

That made sense too, but Scott was shaking his head. "John, the Mandarin Sky has over a hundred restaurants, and every damn one delivers to our hotel. Just get us back there."

I held my breath for a moment. Scott used that paternal tone that Johnny hated, but without a word, my brother started the van and pulled out into traffic.

As he drove, there was none of the pointing out of interesting sites that had marked our trip when Scott was driving. We were all quiet with our thoughts, and for me, at least, the day that had started so bright and shiny now had a pall of grayness over it.

I was surprised when we arrived at our hotel. I had sunk so deep into myself, that I hadn't even noticed where we were, until the engine stopped, and Scott swung himself out of the passenger seat.

I unlocked the wheels on my chair as Scott opened the side door and took over the lift controls. John came up behind me and pushed me onto the lift.

I have to admit, the events of the day had left me cranky, and when the lift touched the ground, I pushed myself forward. When Scott reached for the handles, I growled, "I'm not an invalid."

I pushed myself on, ignoring my brothers. After a moment, John hustled ahead to open the door for me. Even that small courtesy irritated me, and instead of thanking him, I just pushed my way in, and headed for the elevators.

I sat facing the doors. Scott came to stand at my side. When I John didn't appear at my other side, I glanced around, but he was nowhere to be seen. Scott didn't seem perturbed, but like everything else, his absence pissed me off.

The elevator opened up, and Scott and I got on. For the moment we were alone. "Where is John?"

Scott stood, hands in pockets, watching the floor indicator. "I'm his brother, not his keeper."

It was said mildly, but I couldn't help the anger that burst from me. "You're just determined, aren't you?"

Scott looked me in the eye. "Absolutely. I'm determined to see to it that that monster can't ever hurt anybody ever again."

"Even if it means sacrificing yourself? Even if it means leaving the rest of your family to grieve? It'd kill Dad. You have to know that. You have to know that it'd break Virgil. And me, too. Me too, Scott."

Scott's face went hard. "In case you haven't been paying attention, that bitch is gathering herself another round of victims. Another round of families left to grieve. Another round of broken lives. I'm not going to let that happen."

The elevator doors opened on our little foyer, and Scott moved ahead and keyed the door open. I rolled into the room, aware of the strained silence between us. Scott closed the door, and came around to get up in my face.

I waited grimly for the second act of his lecture, but he surprised me with his soft tone. "But you know, I don't see any reason to sacrifice myself to stop her. That's what the war council is for. We'll figure out a way to take her down without ever getting close. Hell, what's the point of owning an aerospace corporation if you can't use the rockets for a little personal revenge?"

He said the last as a joke, and I had to appreciate the way he tried to help me. I scrubbed my face with both hands. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm tired or maybe hungry. What are we going to get for lunch?"

"Who knows. We'll wait until Johnny shows up, then we can order something tasty."

"Where did he go?"

"Not sure. Said he had to buy something."

I glanced over at where the pile of equipment he had gotten at the electronics store had been delivered. "Yeah, I can see why he'd need more stuff."

Scott snorted, then moved to the conversation area. "Come on over here, let's call Dad, see what he has to say."

"I gotta hit the head." It came out more abruptly than I intended, but like I said, I was feeling cranky. I took my time in the bathroom, using a washcloth to wipe down my face and neck.

I still had this knot where my stomach used to be. I couldn't help but feel that neither Scott nor John really got it. When I thought objectively about it, I could understand why a flabby old lady walking down the street wouldn't seem like that big a threat.

You really had to have been in that charnel house to really see what a monster that seemingly innocuous old lady was. You had to see the dying teenager squirming on the floor like a blind worm trying to get back to the woman who was killing him. You had to face someone you love calling you the most hurtful names he could think of because you were trying to save him.

Only Dad, Virgil and I had to deal with all of that. I'd told both Scott and John what had happened, but it was like a bad movie to them. Horrible to hear, but not really something they couldn't deal with.

I finished in the bathroom, and wheeled myself back into the living room. John was back, and when he saw me he tossed me a small bag. "Here."

I opened the bag and found fingerless driving gloves. I had to smile. They'd be a big help when I was pushing myself in the wheelchair. "Thanks, Johnny. What else didja get?"

I gestured to the bags on the table. John went over and opened up one, and pulled out what looked like a hamburger. He handed it to me, but when I opened the wrapping I found a pulled pork sandwich. "Ah, cool."

I took a bite and savored the flavor. Scott called us both over to the conversation area, where the big free floating screen showed my dad, and Virgil and Alan at Dad's desk at home.

John handed Scott one of the sandwiches, but he barely glanced at it, setting it down as he spoke. "No, Dad, that's not going to work. You don't have the experience. We need to meet up somewhere. I'll do the drop."

John and I shared a look. It was never a good idea to tell our dad that he couldn't do something. John asked, "Drop? What kind of drop?"

My dad ignored John's question, and looked at me. "Gordon, how are you feeling, son?"

"I'm good, Dad. What are you going to drop?"

"We're going to hit this woman hard and fast. Thunderbird Two is going to fly Tracy Four up, and I'm going to fly in and take her out."

I felt my eyes widen. Tracy Four was the TEX33, one of Tracy Enterprises most spectacular failures. Intended as a stealth craft, it had Brains' finest light bending technology, and when it flew, it was not only radar-invisible, but physically invisible, and soundless too.

Sounds great, right? Well, it achieved its ability by running through fuel like a skipjack tuna flies through the water. As far as I knew, they had yet to lick the power consumption problem. Virgil had once told me it would take engines the size of those on TB2 to make it really feasible, and engines that size created their own design issues. Anyway, as it was, the prototype literally had a range of less than five hundred miles.

Even that would not be a project killer, but there was more… it could only carry a payload of less than a five hundred pounds. It couldn't carry enough ordnance, or even spy gear to make it worth the fuel costs. And it was a twitchy beast, requiring a live pilot, so turning it into a drone wasn't in the cards.

When Dad had the prototype shipped to the island, he said it was to remind him that failure could happen to anyone. Brains liked to fiddle with it every once in a while, but for the most part, it was parked in a corner in the hangar.

The drop that Dad and Scott were talking about was a dangerous maneuver under the best of circumstances. TB2 would hold the plane with her grabs, then drop it in flight. The pilot of the plane would cold start the plane in the air.

Yeah. It was seriously beyond my skill level. It would be a fairly scary death, falling from some ridiculous height, hoping against hope that the plane could be kick started. Scott, of course, had done it on several occasions in practice.

He said it was just a good idea to have the skill in place, but we all knew it was just an excuse to show off. Him and Virgil both. The drop part was ridiculous, but they also practiced pick up. Yeah, you heard that right. Virgil would fly Two straight and steady, and Scott would bring the plane right up into her belly where the grabs would lock it in place.

But all of Scott's practice had been in Tracy Three, a little one-seater sportjet. Tracy Four was twice the size, and unless there was some part of my dad's career that he'd never told us about, Dad had no experience in this kind of maneuver.

I shifted in my seat a bit. I knew Dad would not take it well, but I had to agree, it was pretty stupid not to use Scott to pilot Tracy Four. I stilled when I got a look at my brothers, Virgil and Alan.

I felt the color drain from my face. Virgil's mouth was a tight white line, and Alan had Dad's same look of determination on his face. I blurted out, "Oh, you can't be serious!"

My mouth snapped shut as soon as I said it. Bad move, Gordon. Sure enough, Dad looked like a particularly irritated mule when he glared at me. "You have a comment, son?"

Aw, crap. I froze. I couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't piss off both my dad and my brother, but as stupid as it was to let Dad do the drop, to have Alan flying Thunderbird Two was just crazy. Yes, he was a great pilot, but he hated flying Two, and he had damned little experience with her.

I just sat there like a deer in headlights, but fortunately I didn't have to say anything, because John, bless his fearless little heart, jumped right in.

"Yeah, Dad, I've got a comment. But let me ask a question first. Virg, are you really up to flying Two? I thought the doctor had grounded you?"

"Yes, I am up to it," Virgil snapped.

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "We've been over this, Virgil. Alan will be flying Two, not you."

"Dad," chorused Virgil and Scott, but Dad held up his hand.

"This is not a discussion I am going to repeat. Do you all understand?" Dad was flint hard, and I for one, nodded quietly.

Scott was angry, but he nodded curtly. Alan was biting his lip. I knew there was a smirk fighting to get out, and I was proud of him that he never let it show.

"All right. Now, Brains has ordered up a boat for you three. I want you to head over to the mainland. Once I've dropped the bombs, I want you to verify the kill."

My stomach seized up again. "But Dad, if the bombs don't get her, anybody coming close will be toast."

Dad made a calming gesture. "We'll be using satellite imaging. I'm not sending you boys in there without being damn sure we've nailed her."

"Then why go at all?" John asked, his head cocked to the side.

"I want proof." Dad said flatly.

I sat still, watching Scott out of the corner of my eye. It was obvious to me that Dad was only sending us in to let Scott feel like he was part of the action. If Scott realized that was Dad's intention, there'd be Hell to pay.

Scott was still so pissed that Dad's subterfuge went right over his head. He gritted out, "Where's the boat?"

"Simpson Marine. I'll email the directions." Dad replied.

"Not necessary. I know where it is," I piped up. Simpson Marine was one of the world's preeminent yacht brokers, and I'd done some serious window shopping there on several occasions. The thought of going there today lifted my heart despite the circumstances.

As we'd been speaking, John had pulled a box out of one of the new bags he'd brought in, and opened it up to reveal one of those fancy new virtual computers. John was talking quietly on his phone, and working hard and fast to set up his new toy.

I was distracted by his flying fingers, and started when Dad barked at me. "Gordon, are you listening?"

If it weren't for my sore butt, I would have leapt to attention. Stupid military training. "Yes, sir."

Dad narrowed his eyes at me to let me know he'd be watching me. Then he continued. "Virgil, bring up that image."

My dad's sharp gaze disappeared to be replaced by a satellite image. It started with a long shot, and I easily recognized Singapore and the surrounding area. The view zoomed in on the mainland to the north. As it got closer in, a structure, seemingly in the middle of the jungle, appeared.

Closer still, and I could see the jungle around the structure had the look of a grid that had been neglected for years. I nodded my head at the view. It was a rubber plantation that had gone to seed.

Rubber was one of those natural products that had gone the way of the dinosaurs when so-called 'green' synthetics had exploded onto the scene some ten years ago. These synthetics were cheaper, more durable, and totally environmentally friendly. Sure, there were some old timers who insisted natural rubber was superior, but not enough of them to keep the industry afloat. There were abandoned rubber plantations like this one all over Southeast Asia.

The screen changed to show a thermal image, and sure enough, in the structure, which looked to be some kind of caretaker's shack, there was a single heat signature. Although the image was live, the heat signature didn't move a muscle. I felt a shiver go down my back as my mind supplied a visual of a spider waiting patiently in its web.

"And we're sure that's her?" John asked.

Dad stated curtly, "We've had a solid track on her from the mainland."

"So, we follow the river to this point, then cut inland," Scott nodded, then pointed out something that I had noticed right away. "Why is the river this brown color?"

I answered, "Silt. Dad, what kind of boat did Brains order?"

"I told him to get something fast. John, there's a business called Diversion Camo on the 96th floor of your hotel. There's a package there to be picked up under the name of Glenn. It's hazmat gear I want you boys to wear, along with a couple of cane knives."

"Cane knives, Dad?" Scott asked, frowning.

"Yes. Anything larger requires a permit. They'll have to do," Dad responded.

I sat quietly seething. Neither Dad nor Scott understood that you couldn't just order up a 'fast' boat. Over the last few months, the Malaysian mainland had been struck by multiple floods resulting in the Johor River being overloaded with silt and debris.

Scott was nodding agreement with something that Dad had said, and the conversation was coming to a close. Scott asked, "Anything else?"

Dad was shaking his head. "No. You boys be careful."

"Dad," I barked, getting their attention. "I need to know exactly what kind of boat Brains got."

From behind me, John quietly said, "Brains says it's a Schneider Mark IV. What the hell is a Schneider Mark IV?"

I felt relief wash over me. I guess we didn't call him 'Brains' for nothing. A Mark IV would be perfect for the conditions on the river, if not for the crossing from Singapore.

"Okay, now, this is getting annoying. Brains says to tell you it has a Byerly centerboard. What the hell is that? And what is a Schneider Mark IV?"

"A Mark IV with a Byerly? Damn. How did he find that?" The Schneider Mark IV was a state of the art airboat. The problem with an airboat is its shallow draft. While that made it perfect for skimming over the debris of the silt-laden river, it would be dangerously unsteady in the open water between Singapore and the mainland. A Byerly centerboard reduced that danger to almost nothing.

A centerboard is a kind of temporary keel, intended to give shallow draft boats additional stability. In the old days, it was exactly what it sounded like, a board that could be winched down into the water from the center of the boat.

The Byerly centerboard was far more advanced. You dropped it down and it spread wings that literally changed the whole profile of the boat. The fact that the boat had a Byerly meant that the crossing of the Johor Straight was going to be a whole lot safer and more comfortable, if not faster.

"So, it's a good thing?" John cocked an eyebrow at me, frowning skeptically.

"Oh, yeah, it's seriously a good thing," I grinned.

"Well, I'm glad you're happy. Can we go now?" Scott asked drily.

"Why yes, we can," I responded brightly, and started wheeling myself to the door.

I was feeling a whole lot better about things now. The succubus still terrified me spitless, and the knot in my stomach hadn't disappeared, mainly because I was worried about that drop Dad was attempting

But I was no more willing to ignore the devastation that the succubus caused than my brothers were. It needed to be dealt with, and fast before she took any more victims. I just didn't want to risk any lives to do the job.

We loaded into the elevator, and Scott hit the buttons for the 96th floor and the garage level. "John, pick up the Hazmat gear, I'll get the van."

It was the kind of command that would have driven Alan crazy. Scott was stating the obvious, and that made Al go nuts. But both Johnny and I understood our big brother just needed to feel like he was in control, and we took no offense, just nodding our heads in agreement.

At the 96th floor, John got out and headed away at the trot. The door closed again, and silence fell between us. I could tell Scott was troubled, but I didn't really know what to say. I did the guy thing, punching him lightly in the arm, just to let him know I was there for him.

Scott's eyes were hooded. He said, quietly, "Sometimes I wonder if I really am the control freak everybody calls me."

Whoa. Deep. "Scott, Dad is wrong here. I don't care how long it took, he should have figured a way to pick you up. It's not control, it's common sense. You're the only one who has ever done a drop and pick up with Thunderbird Two."

My brother didn't respond, but I knew I had said the right thing. Scott breathed a little easier, and got that blank look he sometimes got when he was planning.

We rode down the elevator in silence, and when we hit the garage level, Scott gave me a hard stare, making sure I was ready, that I was up to the job. I stared confidently back, and with a curt nod, he got out of the elevator and headed off to get the van.

I relaxed back into my wheelchair, and wondered if my body could keep the promise that my eyes had made. I rolled out of the elevator, and took a deep breath of wet concrete-scented air. A couple of kids in valet uniforms came up with a question in their eyes. "I'm fine, guys. Just waiting for my ride."

The older of the two pointed the way to a waiting area, offering to push me, but I waved him off and rolled on over. As soon as I was alone, I lifted my wrist communicator. "Gordon Tracy to Alan Tracy. Al, have you taken off yet?"

My brother appeared on my communicator screen. "No, it's going to take a while. Brains is still trying to configure the grabs to hold on to Tracy Four. Have you left yet?"

"We're on our way to pick up the boat. You think you can handle the drop? You want me to walk you through it?"

He gave me a look. "I'm a way better pilot than you, you know."

"Not on Two, you're not."

"Yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Two hundred bucks."

"You're on. I'll see you in the simulator room when you get back."

"Yeah, but seriously Al, this drop isn't going to be easy."

"Don't worry about it. Virgil is going to be online with me. Dad wouldn't let him come, but I promised him he could help me with the drop and pick up. In fact, he just stepped away a few moments ago."

That surprised me. Alan was never much of one for taking direction. Especially when it was something he considered himself an expert at. I had a thought and narrowed my eyes. "Are you actually listening to what Virgil is saying?"

Alan smirked. "I hear every word."

"Alan, listen to the man."

""Look, you can't fly a bird like TB2 long distance. There's not much more than 'fly straight and hold her steady' that Virg can say."

I sighed, "Please, Al, think about it. How would you feel if your entire family was out risking their lives and you were stuck at home feeling useless? Give him a break and at least act like you're paying attention."

"Actually, I know exactly how that feels. Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Gordy. I'll be an attentive little brother, and he'll feel all connected and stuff."

I shook my head, then said, "I gotta go."

"Yeah. You be careful."

"Me? I'm not the one who's going to have Dad watching his every tiny little move."

My brother had just enough time to register that terrifying thought before I cut the connection.

"Hey." I looked around at John as he came to stand at my side, heavy packages in his hands. We both looked up at the sound of an approaching car. It was Scott, and he spotted us, and pulled up next to the waiting area. John handled the lift controls, and I was soon onboard.

With my direction, Scott headed for the docks, and John pulled out his laptop. In less than ten minutes we pulled up in front of Simpson Marine. I think I surprised my brothers when I got up out of the wheelchair, and picked up my pillow.

I shrugged my shoulders, saying, "We might as well leave it here. I can't really get it onto the boat."

They saw the sense of what I was saying, but Scott frowned ferociously as he watched me limping. I ignored him, and led the way into the office. The salesman, Mr. Chu, knew me from my window shopping trips. He looked up as we entered, and came out from behind his desk to shake my hand.

He had all of the paperwork lined up and ready to go, and within ten minutes, we were on our way to the dock where our chariot awaited. It was hard to walk past all of those beautiful boats, and not stop and gawk and ask about them.

I took in deep breaths of air, reveling in the smells of new wood, and machine oil overlaid with a sea air tang. I really loved boatyards, but we didn't have the time to window shop, and way too quickly, we were at the end of the dock, where the Mark IV had been tied up.

It was bigger than I had expected, with two rows of bolted on seats ahead of the pilot's raised seat. It was a total of eight passenger seats, but what drew my eye was the thick divider that ran almost the length of the boat. It was a good two feet tall, and about four inches thick.

I pointed to it and asked the salesman, "Is that the Byerly?"

Mr. Chu smiled widely, nodding his head. "Yes. It operates from the pilot's console."

Oh, excellent. I smiled back at Mr. Chu. "This is even better than I'd hoped." I looked over at my brothers, who both wore little frowns. "Okay, guys, let's lock and load."

I started down the short gangplank, and stepped aboard my new command. She bobbed slightly at my weight, but even with a torn up butt, I could balance easily. I maneuvered over to the pilot's seat, and plopped my pillow down.

Scott stepped up with a gray Hazmat jumpsuit, and with his help, I put it on over my clothes. I could immediately feel the sweat start, but I knew once we were on the water and moving, the air flow would keep me cool.

The next bit was tricky. Under normal circumstances, I could swing up into the high seat with very little trouble, but things being as they were, I wasn't quite sure how to do it. And it didn't help that I could sense my brothers behind me staring at me, just waiting for a reason to leave me behind.

I stood gathering my courage for what I knew was going to be a painful transition, when Scott and John appeared at my sides. "Turn around," Scott ordered bluntly.

Not sure what he had in mind, I turned. "Okay, keep your arms stiff," John said.

My brothers grabbed my hands, and I immediately understood what they were doing. With my arms held stiffly at my sides, my brothers lifted me up enough to slide onto my pillow. I had to wiggle to position it right, but in a moment I was in place and ready to go.

Or not. I looked at the controls, and the labels were all in some foreign language. I'd worked with airboats a couple of times during my short time with WASP, and for the most part I could figure it out, but there were some extra buttons on the control panel, and I needed to know what they were. Especially the centerboard control. "Uh, Johnny, can you make out these controls?"

John came over and looked at the panel I'd nodded to. "Sure. That's engine start, that's throttle enrichment, that's centerboard, and that's emergency stop. Uh, what would that be?"

I nodded. "It cuts the engine, and deploys a water anchor. Trust me, we don't want to hit that one. It's like smacking into a brick wall."

"Okay, so let's get going. We need to get over there and back before nightfall." Scott sat down on one of the seats, and started to pull on the Hazmat suit.

I rolled my eyes, and turned to John. "Can you cast off the lines for me?"

"Sure."

John moved to the front of the boat, and untied the line to the pier, then moved to the rear and did the same. I gestured for him to open a storage box near my seat.

He raised an eyebrow at my implicit demand for quiet, but he did as I asked and with a smile, realized what I was doing. He pulled out two sets of noise canceling earphones, and gave one to me.

John moved quietly to a seat, and with a grin, I hit the engine start button. The huge fan at my back promptly fired up, with a roar that put Thunderbird Two to shame. The boat jumped ahead, but not nearly as quickly as Scott jumped, his eyes wide.

I immediately throttled the engine back, partially to keep Scott from being thrown overboard, but mainly to drop the Byerly. I felt the thunk of the centerboard locking just as the telltale turned green.

I looked up to find Scott had found the headphones, and had finished changing into his Hazmat suit. He was lounging on one of the seats, his Hazmat hood thrown back. John was working to get his suit on.

After a moment, Scott looked back at me, and tapped his headphones. "Let's go."

His voice sounded clear through my headphones without any tinny quality. Another plus. I shook my head. "Not 'til John's ready."

"Gordon, we haven't got all day."

I looked my big brother in the eye. "Have you ever been aboard an airboat?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

I thought for a minute to come up with an appropriate metaphor. "It's like riding a roller coaster. A lot of fun, but only if you're buckled in. This boat is fast, and you can slip right off those seats, if I turn."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "Then don't turn."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard. We will begin our tour just as soon as everybody is strapped in."

Scott shot me a dirty look, then glanced over at John. The glance became a double-take and I looked too, to see that John had finished getting his suit on, and was safely buckled in, and looking for all the world like a tourist anticipating a nice ride.

I snorted a laugh, and Scott just shook his head, but he did buckle up. I throttled up the engine just enough to get us moving, and with a roar at my back, and the salt wind in my face, we were off.

It was necessary while in the harbor to keep the speed down. Even Scott understood that, but once we cleared the Manna Channel, and were in open water, I was ready to rev it up.

I hit the throttle, and soon we were moving at about 40 knots. God, it felt good. With the centerboard, the boat was stable, and cut smoothly through the water. The sun was well past the high noon mark and the water sparkled everywhere you looked. We zipped past pleasure craft of all shapes and sizes, and for a few moments, a speedboat kept pace with us.

If it weren't for our mission, it would have been a perfect afternoon. But what lay ahead took all the fun out of it as soon as I thought of it. The boat had a heads up GPS display, and within an hour, I was cutting back the speed as the Straits narrowed down to the Johor River.

I kept us to the center of the river, and kept an eye out for any obstacles that could tear up our centerboard. As we moved on, I watched as the silt lines moved out from the shore, and just about where they converged, I idled us back to a stop.

Both Scott and John had been enjoying the ride, and now, John checked his laptop. Tapping his headphones, he said, "No, Gordon, we're still a good four miles away from where we need to be."

I nodded and gestured to the river. "Yeah, I know. I just have to raise the centerboard. We're getting into the shallows."

The operation only took a few moments, and I breathed a sigh of relief. There had been no indication that anything had snagged on the Byerly, but it still was satisfying to hear the thunk as it locked in its closed position.

"Uh, wait a minute here. Gordy, it's three o'clock," John said, dismayed.

Yeah, I knew I was going to miss that doctor's appointment, but I hadn't said anything. There was no way I was staying behind.

Scott turned and looked at me, his face reddening. I could see without him even saying anything that he felt guilty for not remembering the appointment.

"I'm fine, guys. I'll see the doctor when we get back,"

Scott's jaw worked, but he nodded. He's a sensible man, and he could see that there was no point in worrying about it at the moment.

Without the centerboard, the boat had started to bob more violently in the chop of the strait. I revved up the throttle and sent us forward, picking up speed as we went.

As the river channel narrowed, and the reeds and weeds thickened, the air boat really came into its own. We skimmed along the surface of the water practically flying over the snags and debris that would have holed any other boat.

The wind blowing in my face was a relief from the muggy heat, and the heavy Hazmat suit I'd put on kept the swarms of insects from eating me alive. The sun was well on its way to the horizon, and I kept the boat moving. I had no desire to be stuck out here over night.

I kept my eye on the GPS display, and I throttled back just as John raised a hand to signal me to stop. All three of us peered at the shoreline, looking for a good place to tie up.

Finally Scott pointed to the left, and I guided the boat in close to a huge old mangrove overhanging the water. John grabbed hold of a limb, and I shut down the motor. The sudden silence seemed very ominous to me, and now that we were here, my stomach clenched with apprehension.

Scott lifted his communicator. "Scott Tracy to Thunderbird Two, come in Alan."

"Thunderbird Two. Scott, I've dropped Tracy Four, and he's inbound."

John had his computer up and running. Soon, we had a running commentary from our father. "I'm on final approach. Brains, confirm the target."

"Uh, yes, Mr. Tracy. The uh, target has not moved, and there is still no sign of any other, uh, people on the site. I do, however, see a couple of figures approaching."

"How far out, Brains?"

"Uh, the nearest is about five hundred yards and closing slowly. I calculate you will have destroyed the uh, target before this person gets within range, however, there is the uh, distinct possibility that he or she will see the missiles coming in."

"Can't be helped. I am locked and on target. Firing missiles now."

Now that was amazing. From our point of view on the air boat, two flames suddenly appeared in midair. They streaked across the sky, and hit inland in less than a few seconds. I found myself nodding. There just wouldn't have been enough time for the monster to react, let alone escape.

The fireball from the missile strike reached a least a hundred feet into the sky, and despite the distance, I could feel the heat of it. There was a rain of debris that seemed to go on forever, and I felt a sudden concern that we might find ourselves responsible for a forest fire.

My dad's voice was subdued when he spoke. "Brains, the building has been destroyed. Can you confirm? Did that monster get out?"

Brains' was just as quiet as he answered, "I saw no sign of uh, anyone escaping."

Scott hadn't said a thing during this time, but now, I could sense him relaxing in his seat. And I felt my own tense muscles start to loosen. Could it really be over?

"Brains, what's happening with the people that were headed toward her?" John asked curiously.

"Uh, one moment, John," Brains said distracted. "They have both stopped, and are not moving."

"Give me a vector, Brains. I want to check on them."

"Uh, yes, Mr. Tracy. Come to uh, course 7.439. You should overfly their position in, uh, ten seconds."

While we waited for Dad's report, I stared up into the sky. The stealth package on Tracy Four was incredible. Even knowing the jet was up there, I couldn't hear or see a thing.

We heard a grunt over the comm, and then Dad said, "They are both just standing there, not moving. Both male as far as I can tell. Brains, keep an eye on them. If they haven't left of their own accord when Scott gets there, we'll have him get them to a doctor. I'm heading back to Thunderbird Two."

"FAB." Brains responded.

It was our turn. Scott stood in the bow of the boat, looking around, and suddenly he shook his head in disgust.

I had to agree with him. The shoreline, such as it was, was very swampy, but the mangrove roots were everywhere. I was pretty sure that the swamp ended maybe a hundred yards in, I mean, there was a rubber plantation behind all of this somewhere. But that hundred yards was going to be pretty miserable going.

I bit my lip to keep from grinning. My brothers were both looking at the shore rather disconcertedly. Suddenly a torn up ass didn't seem so bad. "So, Johnny, did you get me some snacks?" I asked brightly.

Both of my brothers shot me dirty looks, which I just smiled sweetly at. Scott shook his head and turned back to stare at the shoreline. "Stay here."

I raised an eyebrow at that. I wasn't quite sure who he was directing that at. He grabbed a convenient branch and swung himself off of the boat, and started gingerly making his way inland.

John watched for a few minutes then with a sigh, started out after Scott. "Hey, Johnny, be careful, and keep in touch, okay?"

John looked back at me and waved, a small grim smile on his face. My brothers were both out of sight very quickly, and I swallowed hard against my apprehension.

When I'd first shut down the air boat's motor, I had been struck by the silence, but it soon became apparent that it had just been in comparison. There was an ever present buzz of gnats and mosquitoes, punctuated by the occasional heavier buzz of a larger insect.

The water, though sluggish, still lapped against the boat, and tree roots. And through it all I could hear bird calls and something that might have been a monkey.

The sun was still well above the horizon, and now that I was stationary, its heat beat down on me like a very heavy, very soggy blanket. It was damned uncomfortable, but there was no way I was taking the jumpsuit off. The bugs were making me crazy as it was, zeroing in on my exposed face and hands.

"Thunderbird Two to Gordon. You got your ears on, bro?"

"Hey, Al. Yeah. They're on. They're full of bugs, but they're on. How did it go?"

"Actually, it went really well. You know, I don't think I give Dad near enough credit. He handled the pick up like a pro. He's on his way up here now. How is it at your end?"

"We've reached the danger zone, and Scott and John left about fifteen minutes ago."

"Fifteen minutes? Shouldn't they be there by now?"

"I don't know. They have to make it through a mini-jungle to get to the plantation. I can't see anything but a wall of mangroves from here."

"Hold on, son," Dad had reached Thunderbird Two's cockpit. I could hear a few clicks as he conferenced in my brothers.

"Yeah, Dad, we've just cleared the swamp, and we're working our way through the rubber trees." John's voice floated in the air.

"All right, son. Keep this line open. I want a running commentary," Dad ordered.

"Yes, sir. We're getting close. There's fire haze in the air, and I can smell the MCN chemicals. Oh, there it is."

I could hear a low whistle from one of my brothers, and then Scott took up the narrative. "Dad, we're onsite. I think we might have been a bit optimistic about finding any proof. There's damn little left. The structure was completely destroyed. We're going to be sifting through ashes, and fine ashes at that."

"Do what you can, son. I want to be sure that thing is dead."

"Yes, sir. What's that over there?"

"No, it's just wood. Careful, it's pretty hot over here."

"Yeah."

My brothers kept at it, looking for any clear sign of a body. At one point they had both gone very quiet, and my stomach seized up yet again. But when Dad demanded an explanation, they explained that had found the distorted frame of a child's tricycle.

It was a reminder to us all that there were other people affected by all of this, and not all were necessarily direct victims of the succubus. Suddenly Brains volunteered the information that the two victims who had been heading to the monster's lair had turned around and were now heading away, hopefully back to their families.

"You know, that might be the only proof that we ever get that it's dead. The fact that those people were able to walk away."

I nodded my head in agreement with Alan's statement. "Yeah."

"Scott? Look at this. Does that look like a bone to you?"

I suddenly sucked in a breath, waiting for my brother's answer. "Maybe. Let's dig around here see if there's anything else."

I listened, hardly daring to breathe, and I could sense a similar stillness from the other listeners. Finally after several minutes, John said firmly, "Now that's definitely a rib."

"Yes. Dad, I think we've got our proof."

Alan let out a whoop, and I could hear Dad breathing a sigh of relief. Me? I just started to shake. I signed off the communicator, not wanting anyone to hear the quaver in my voice. I sat in my elevated pilot's chair and shook, breathing hard, grinding my teeth to keep from sobbing.

It was over. Finally. And for a miracle, I had all of my brothers alive. I knew that it would be a very long time before I'd be able to put this behind me. And it would probably be even longer for Scott and John.

I hoped that we would all get back to what we were before, but I think I knew that this whole incident would leave a mark. Who knew that the fairy tale monsters were real?

And if a succubus was real, what else was out there? And how could we deal with it? And was it our responsibility in the first place? The mission of International Rescue was to save lives, and by eliminating the succubus, we had definitely saved lives. But did that mean it was now our responsibility to go out looking for monsters?

God, I hope not. Please, dear God, let this be the only one.

The end.


End file.
